Fate Stay Night Skylight Aura
by geraldineamoeba
Summary: An epilogue of Fate Stay Night Unlimited Blade Works. Gilgamesh & The Grail didn't end as Shirou & Rin thought. Instead they used each other's essence to heal: the Grail, it's wound from Saber; Gilgamesh, regenerating his mortal arm. War will soon begin again. Will the participants be able to stop the Grail & who it holds inside, or will the past repeat? OC x Lancer Shirou x Saber
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

 _June 10th 2001_

Shirou Emiya and Rin Tohsaka beat the Lesser Grail using a massive blow from Excalibur, the holy sword wielded by Saber, the King of Knights. Emiya watched as a black hole, a massive circular portal with glowing white hot edges opened and consumed the bloody, one-armed Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh only had enough strength to throw out only one Chain of Heaven, a last hope to grab onto Shirou and force him to pull him out of the hole's grasp.

A bold move Shirou had done: it secured his feeling of hatred towards Gilgameshand his ideal. Shirou snapped the chain and allowed the Lesser Grail's force consume Gilgamesh, letting clincking chain and Gilgamesh's frightened look instantly dissolve as the dying grail sucked the Heroic Spirit in like a hungry wolf into a void of space.

It was a bold move, but not the right move.

Even with the impact of Saber's masterful hit onto the Lesser Grail, with it devouring a Servant, rather than using a Mage (whose enhanced magic circuitry could power it with mana), the Lesser Grail therein, didn't 'die' as Shirou and Tohsaka had predicted, had thought. Instead, without the mana from a Mage, it fed off Gilgamesh's spirit, and in doing so, laid dormant.

But still very much alive.

Fueled by a slowly repairing Gilgamesh, his mortal arm growing back, wounds being healed by the Lesser Grail, the Lesser Grail leached to repair itself, and the blow it took from Saber's sword.

It was a mutually beneficial.

And on top of this, due to feeding off of Gilgamesh, the Lesser Grail couldn't help but form more human-like thoughts. It understood human emotion better than anything, and mostly negative ones, attributed to Gilgamesh, because all Gilgamesh could muster was destruction to Emiya Shirou and Tohsaka Rin's family lines.

He wanted their families to suffer, a cost of agony, as Gilgamesh was forced to live a disgusting, wretchful life inside the Grail. He'd been made to live for years inside the Lesser Grail, it's black sludge sucking on his life force like a parasite.

Which is exactly why Gilgamesh wouldn't allow the Grail to make a move until many years after the death of both Tohsaka and Shirou.

With Gilgamesh's revenge running thick through the Lesser Grail, it took on his wishes and thoughts, let alone it's own. Patiently waiting, it would to go back to doing what it normally does, and was created by mages to do:

Start a war between seven masters and seven spirits of either past, present or future:

Rider. Assassin. Lancer. Caster. Archer. Berserker. Saber.

Seven respective or non-educated Mage Masters, new faces every war.

A holy war.

A fight to the death for the two wishes from it.

One for the sage. One for the hero.

Gilgamesh wanted to wait until Tohsaka and Shirou were both gone, to take evil vengeance on the families that destroyed his hopes of destroying a majority of the modern human race. He wouldn't have Shirou stop him; the only one capable of killing him, and he wouldn't have that girl be a conspirator.

So he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Telling the Grail who feed off of him, just as much as he did off of it, that if it intended to start the war again before he said so, before their physical deaths... he'd just kill himself.

The Lesser Grail obeyed him.

So, Gilgamesh obeyed it.

He'd allow the Grail to feed off his essence on that condition... Because he could just commit suicide, and the Grail knew it, then it would die, that omnipotent essence it contained evaporate and Gilgamesh so back to his Hellscape forever.

The King of a million priceless weapons and all the renowned treasures across the world, had finally become exactly what he collected: a treasure himself.

He had become bound to an artifact... becoming the artifact himself.

He had become the Lesser Grail, as much as the Grail was him.

He chuckled at the irony.

He knew the Lesser Grail starting the cycle of wars again would be the only way that he'd get a chance to slip out. For he desired to walk on Earth again in his unchanging mortal body, and go right back to his original plan, fighting for the Lesser Grail in an upcoming war, winning it, then killing off the entire modern human race.

Those left after, would worship him as a rightful Demi-God King, having a purpose and knowing their rights. The leftover ones, the worthiest of the last, the worthiest to be ruled by him.

The Lesser Grail was healed and he was healed by the time that Gilgamesh declared to the object that devoured him that the war cycles could start up again.

The Grail no longer needed him, and could survive once again as a Mage-created entity on it's own. But the Grail, it wouldn't let Gilgamesh go that simply. It clung to his fibers like a newborn clung to a mothers breast.

The war had to happen, the Grail had to be opened, and in that process he had to slip out while the Lesser Grail was fulfilling the two wishes for the winning master and servant. While it was distracted.

Gilgamesh had plenty of time to think it through. All he had was time, just like when he was stuck in his Hellscape, the Hellscape that all un-bodied spirits were stuck in after they died, stuck in the scenes/areas where their mortal body passed.

If he died while stepping outside of Lesser Grail, which was unthinkable, due to Shirou dying, (the only combatant who'd be able to stand a chance in winning against him in a battle), what's the chance that another Mage in a different future time would re-summon him to fight in a future war?

It was high.

But the wait of it annoyed him. He'd rather just remain in his mortal body and not have to wait out the chance to be summoned again. He wanted the human race of this era extinct, and he wanted it NOW. All the uselessness would end for the dumb and lame, and each individual would again have it's own purpose.

He was Gilgamesh, renowned epic ruler, Demi-God and King of All Treasure. All gold belonged to him, he'd even experienced being treasure, being the Lesser Grail.

He'd be summoned again though, and if need be, he thought of dying physically as his back up plan. It would take longer if that happen, but Gilgamesh was keen, just as much as he was vile and self-serving, he'd been a war-bringer in ancient life, he'd draw the plans, start the battles, him and his army would always win.

It was as much planning as it was blunt, brute ever-pushing force.

Gilgamesh laughed inside of the Grail in madness at this, his head no longer cool after being consumed.

There was no stopping him!

Now the time has come. The war will begin and nothing would stop him in his cruel endeavors.

Nothing.

* * *

 _April 17th, 2006_

She bore twins, and not to Emiya Shirou.

Emiya was there. He was proud, but he was not their father.

She'd married another man.

Shirou not accepting the invitation to become an official member of the Mage's Association in England got them both kicked out. Both Tohsaka, a member of the esteemed Tohsaka family who patroned Emiya in, and Shirou himself.

It wasn't long after that, that her and him split.

Three years after going to school, getting kicked out, they decided their ideals were just too different.

Shirou lived to make others happy, Rin did small things to make others happy, sure, but had a firm grounding on herself and who she was, and wouldn't allow her back to bent until it broke over helping others and putting others first the way Shirou would. She eventually found love in a man who could put their relationship first.

She traveled as she said she would, back to Japan first to go home, back to her family's historical mansion there. That all too familiar Mage bounding circle of protection sucked her in like normal, the weight on her chest.

She'd told Shirou once, while sitting on his house's outside patio area, that the feeling of the bounding circle at his house was 'easy going, come and go as you please.' It had been put in place by Kiritsugu, it had been strengthened by someone else, she could tell at the time, but that person's heart had been warm.

The one at her house was not that.

It drew you in, then once in, you had the feeling wash over you that you couldn't leave. It had been put in place by her great-grandfather, then every Mage that lived there since, it was their duty, to reinstate it as he or she took it over as head of household.

It wasn't something she'd done. Instead, she'd left.

Shirou didn't do his either. With him, it was more so, she wasn't sure whether he knew he even had to do that.

Both house's bounding fields were fading, times of Mage families living in both of them, it had ended. Eventually, over the next 20 years or so, without a magical reinstatement, it'd completely fade.

Something about that thought, made her not feel ill, but content.

It was a new age. She was her father's child, but she wasn't as the rest of the Tohsakas had been.

She was adventurous, outgoing, not a home-body, and every time she looked at the mansion, nothing remained for her there except her constant negative memories; her sister getting hauled away to live with the Matous and that damn false priest who'd killed her father.

The first thing she did was sell it. She didn't desire to live in Japan any longer, she's grown fond of England and wanted to go back there as Shirou was traveling on his own through Egypt.

While she had no desire to meet up with him there, nor could she send him postcards as he was constantly nomadic, she still longed to travel herself, just as they'd promised each other.

 _'No matter where this takes us.'_

Even if they get kicked out of school.

Even if we break up.

Even if life led them down different paths.

With the money from the mansion being sold, she used it to move around much like Emiya for a few years, until meeting a young man named Bartley. He was an Irishman of a lower Mage family that had attended The Clock Tower Mage School in England and his family was a member of the Clock Tower Mage Association.

He and her actually shared ideals on life, and while both of them shared a similar concept on little tokens of appreciation, but still honoring yourself above all else, they found enough space in both of their hearts to also honor each other. Unlike with Emiya Shirou, who was constantly distracted because he was set to making everyone happy, living not for himself, but only others... A person who couldn't put only one person first, but tried to put everyone first, Tohsaka finally found the love and affection in a relationship that she desired and the shared mentality in another.

Even after they married, Emiya commented that they were in fact 'made for each other'. Tohsaka knew he'd never say sorry, because by being who he was, that was what put an end to their romantic relationship. But at the same time, Tohsaka would never wish it on someone to apologize for their true nature.

Especially since he believed in being that 'hero of justice' that his father Kiritsugu could never fulfill.

Shirou was there in the hospital when the twins boys were born bearing the last name of Casey.

Tohsaka named them Ebisu and Keitaro (who later in adulthood just went by Kei). Tohsaka only had meant to have one. As a Mage her concern was that only one descendant could be trained as a Mage in an heir-type situation. Her husband understood the qualms of it, the tradition of it, as he was a Mage, but knew what happened in her past, with her sister who went to the Matous because of her father choosing her as the heir.

They chose to instead keep both boys and they would choose among themselves who would do the Mage works when old enough. It was against tradition, as the sage parent or parents usual chose the heir to the magic circuitry, but when was Tohsaka ever traditional?

She'd broke all her tradition throughout her earlier years already!

She'd ended the cycle of wars with the last half of the True Grail destroyed, she'd sold her family home, she'd been expelled from Clock Tower because of Shirou, she got married to a foreigner (outside of House Tohsaka's past marriages by over a few hundred years), and she bore twins! Twins didn't run in the Tohsaka family!

Tohsaka Rin was a rule breaker.

So why not break another rule (with her husband going along with the decision), and let the twins decide among themselves?

* * *

 _April 17th, 2014_

The boys were eight years old.

The Caseys knew what this meant, upon their summer birthday, the cakes, candles, icing, the cheer and claps of blowing out candles together... The time had come.

The boys would have to decide which one would inherit the magic.

Shirou Emiya was not present, hadn't checked-in in a few weeks, he still remained ever present in Tohsaka's mind.

That redhead! Much like her husband, who had the tendency to wander off in his own head, so did that Shirou, for different reasons albeit, but Shirou had wandered off somewhere this time that was preventing him from sending letters.

Hadn't she been told by Shirou's future self, by Archer, that she'd watch him like a hawk and guide him when need be?

So... where was he running off to where she couldn't check in? It infuriated her.

She wasn't about to break the pact she held up with Archer, but also, she had a place inside her heart for Shirou. It was a special place that nobody would ever touch that was only for that man, that would only ever be. It was love, and while it was no longer romantic, she held to it firm, accepted that it was love of him, as a sister would have love, and knowing her feelings, understood that it wasn't just Archer's pact that kept her checking on Shirou, it was also herself. Because she actually truly, really did care about him.

A smile formed in her eyes that were just beginning to show signs of age.

The boys witnessed magic that night from both. Their father had decided to show a traditional magics of element morphing, changing water and liquids into solid at will, hard as stone to make a sword, and Tohsaka kept it simple by showing a simple gem power of a flash of bright light that caused them to all to lose sight for a split second.

At that point, with one children screaming in terror and the other clapping in joy, it was obvious their twins, amidst looking alike, wearing the same clothes much of childhood, sharing everything, playing together, laughing together, that this was the oil and water that would divide them, that would break them.

They were yin and yang in temperament.

Never had Tohsaka seen it this clearly, and it left her feeling insecure about the future for the boys. Never would she ship off Ebisu for being scared of magic, frightened of it and its spiritual qualms, as her father had done to her sister, but she knew it meant two separate paths for them, when they had lived together as one for their first eight years.

It wouldn't be the same after this.

Later that week, Keitaro accepted the entry to become the heir to the Tohsaka and Casey magics, all associated under the Clock Tower name of House Casey. Keitaro became a stay at home student as Ebisu remained in public school.

With the bonding of two factions/families of Mages with a marriage, and upon the tradition of passing on the familial magics, by Clock Tower law, also a new crest was to be drawn, a fresh one.

This had to be followed and registered with the Clock Tower.

While Tohsaka bore the crest of the Tohsaka's, a band in her arm that glowed and wrapped around it like a huge cuff covering her entire upper right arm, (a crest which she'd shared a piece of with Shirou back in the day, the scarred mark still remaining on his arm from it), her husband's crest was more simple and bore the resemblance of a traditional Irish Celt symbol: The Awen, an ancient Neo-Druid symbol of balance.

They combined the two symbols. They kept The Awen (Bartley insisted on it), but instead of The Awen having three solid bars on it, the bars instead consisted of the Tohsaka circuitry. The transplantation of the new symbol was painful, it caused Keitaro to scream for four hours, and be subdued for nearly a month over it. His responses to anything, even something as simple as 'what would you like for dinner?' became a battle to get an answer from, he lived much like a vegetable in the hospital.

But then one day, like the calm of an afternoon breeze, the cloud of darkness, the tension ans stress caused by the pain of internal circuitry being awakened by the transplantation of the symbols and sudden mana lighting, lifted. He became normal again, but not the same smiling, cheery self.

Even though he'd crack a smile here and there, and it being still so lofty and sincere, as a young boy, he'd realized what he'd transplanted himself into, the gravity of what he'd accepted:

To be a Mage, was to experience both the joys and the pains of magic.

It wasn't all pleasure like he's thought it'd be. He'd learned this at too early an age, and the new crest transplantation scarred his mind into a different level of thinking.

When his mother said it'd hurt him at first, he didn't realize or understand the concept of the time-frame. He still had a child like mentality, hurting wasn't something long lasting, it was a scratch you could cover with a band-aid.

There was no sense of how the Caseys could of prepared their child for the undertaking of a new crest from two families of Mages. They knew it'd hurt a little more than normal, but not to where it'd knock their son into a different dimensional mindset for a month, only to come out of it with a completely different look spread across his face.

The child Kei was gone.

At eight, his childhood was over and he knew it, they knew it, and his brother knew it. Once Ebisu seen Kei's unreliable, sad comatose state, he'd tried to fight his father, banging against his chest his little fists, screaming to him:

'Why'd you do this?' Then turning to his mother, who had tears covering her once young face, 'Why'd you do this?'

Ebisu wanted his brother to remain his brother. To spend time with him, even though they chose different paths... He loved him. He'd overcome how frightened he was of magic! He'd learn to love his brother anyway for choosing the different path!

His screaming brought agony to Tohsaka's eyes. She wanted to scream she was sorry, so so sorry, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. It was Kei's choice. It had been her choice. It's had been her husband's choice. To give the crest.

While in comatose for a month, she did nothing but get into Kei's bed and hold him, as if her musings would silently say she was sorry for what they'd given him, when in reality she should of been comforting Ebisu as well.

Ebisu had nobody in the family to relate to anymore. Both parents were Mages, and now his brother was a Mage too.

And... this if anything, had perverted his vision of magic all the more.

He had thought he'd eventually ease himself into understanding magic, to not be so frightened of it, but this state his poor brother was in, repulsed him away from magic more.

It flat out sickened him.

He'd heard of the story behind his aunt, who never came to visit. Who he didn't even know. How she was given to a different family because she didn't get the magic.

He loved his family! He didn't want to be given away!

Kei was always comforted by mom. Ebisu always by dad, even though he was a Mage. That month set them on a path to their respective parental figures that they'd look up to the most through adulthood.

As they say... 'he's a momma's boy'... Keitaro became a follower of Tohsaka at the heels.

And even though not a proper Mage, Ebisu became okay with learning some simplistic magics, ones that were practical and that didn't require a crest. The crest that he was so afraid of bearing, that was against the Mage tradition to bear anyway. It's already been given to the one child, the one heir.

Needless to say, he became his father's son.

Never did they play again.

The magic drew a wedge between them.

* * *

 _May 20th, 2024_

They were both eighteen.

Graduating from high school, this was their academic graduation they were going to attend together.

It went on like normal for Ebisu.

But for Kei, graduating from being a Mage and being home-schooled was different. Two graduations were given. This space that the home-schooled students graduated in with the public schooled students was an auditorium area connected to the main building.

They both still spoke.

That, at least Shirou noticed, as he showed up for the boys' graduation.

Tohsaka and him were keeping touch well again.

He noted to Tohsaka that them still speaking meant they were on talking terms, willing to still be brother and brother, even though when they disagreed, they disagreed nastily.

Never had the boys seen their mother hang all over someone else as much as she did to this man. Both were baffled. The way she ruffled the hair of the man made Keitaro angry and Ebisu perplexed.

Ebisu didn't know his mother well, so he didn't understand and it didn't bother him to not understand. He knew this man was a long-term family friend somehow and he knew his name was Shirou. He simple stared trying to get a grasp on the man in the red coat and tried to think back if he ever remembered her as being that much of a flirt.

Keitaro was upset. This was his mother! She's married to their dad! It was embarrassing and unnerving to him that his father (that he didn't know that well) would let his wife act such a way and be so nonchalant about it! He was laughing on the side as the two carried on in fact!

Both the boys overheard their mother teasing the tall man in boots.

"Boy boy Emiya kun, look at you!"

"Tohsaka cut it out, you knew I'd pick it up once I came across it."

"That jacket reminds me of someone." She put a finger to lip, the flirtiest she'd looked in years, irking both the on-looking boys for different reasons. "You're turning into him a little more each time I see you."

Both the boys looked at each other with the same thought. 'Turning into someone?' Kei had thoughts of Mage spells running through his head, thinking of what his mother could possibly be referring to, Ebisu thought similarly, but less complex, more so his thought process centered around what his brother was thinking about as it had made his eyes race back and forth.

"You haven't seen me in what, a few years?"

The boys turned back not speaking, to listening as the conversation started back up.

"About." She leaned on the railing of the ceremony area, drinking some punch. "So where'd you find it?"

"In a shop in Venice... Surprisingly." He hushed looking at her with slitted eyes. He knew the younger Caseys were listening. It was a silent acknowledgement that Tohsaka picked up on and ignored.

Obviously, she didn't care. Neither had told the boys about the War, and what had been done, and that they were involved. Only Shirou, Rin and her husband knew. They all had decided not to share it. The Lesser Grail was over. It had ended.

Shirou realized that the boys just wouldn't understand what they were gibbering on about, let alone, understand Rin's teasing.

"So it's Roman Catholic then?"

"Yeh." The man took a sip of punch.

Their mom took another sip. "Should I just start calling you it at this point? I do see so gray hairs in that red mop top of yours."

Hairs stood up on the back of his neck. "Please don't." Shirou sighed, taking a finger and attempting to loosen the collar of the long-coat. "I'd like to think I've already made better choices than he did."

The boys hung close-ish, looming on the words, not even pretending that they weren't listening.

"We'll never know will we?"

"No I suppose not."

"Well..." Tohsaka looked over her shoulder, to the man smiling at her with a indescribable, distant but sincere grin. "Just try not to get yourself hung?"

At that comment, Kei's mouth tightened and the other's mouth fell awry.

"Tohsaka!" The man burst out crushing the empty paper cup in his hand in a sudden knee jerk reaction.

She just chuckled walking out the door, stopping just to say, breathy, the teasing nature obvious.

"You heard me Archer."

The man's lip dropped and then closed. He smiled in a 'knowing' type of way and followed her out the door, leaving both boys wondering what that was all about.

* * *

Later that night, he introduced himself as Shirou Emiya, Mage and adoptive son of Kiritsugu Emiya, heir to the Emiya magic, and just magic he'd developed on his own, that he'd been there when the boy's were born, he's the one that sends the letters all the time to their mom.

They sat around the table at their house, all drinking wine and celebrating the boy's graduation. The boy's had their first liquor here.

The Caseys were trying their hardest to re-unite the boys, and the wedge that once drove them apart, the strong magic bearing, and feelings behind it, it had indeed softened some.

Progress in their relationship had been made.

Both the boys were sitting by each other not really talking, but taking in the conversation between the adults, but upon listening, they realized that the 'adults' were recognizing them as adults.

For the first time they had the rights to ask questions as peers to their elders, and they didn't have to wait to speak or wait for their turn.

Ebisu got ballsy in his fluffy liquored state. He asked a question that both Caseys thought that surely Kei would of asked. "Do you have any kids Emiya Shirou?"

"No I don't." He took a sip of white wine. His half gray half red head turned to face them with a simplistic, touching look.

He had no heir. He knew why it was being asked.

Kei's eyes searched the man. 'So. He has no one to pass on the Emiya magics.' This time Kei spoke up finishing off with a question relevant to his position. "So, what are the Emiya crest magics then?"

This made Shirou Emiya smirk deeply and turn to the Tohsaka's husband, both of them laughing in knowed-ness. Shirou more less developed his own magics, sure Kiritsugu had been an influence, but more less, he fed off Archer too, his future self, as odd as that was. He had a connection to him, because he was him.

"Your kids... spoken like true Mages. Bold." He finished off his glass of wine.

"Ebisu's mouth fell. His mind raced. 'Mage?' When had he been lumped-in under the description of a Mage?

Bartley Casey turned to his children, now adults, at the end of the table, Tohsaka smiling into her drink. Shirou Emiya still chuckling, scratching his head almost like it was embarrassing to him as the Casey family head spoke:

"Mage Shirou Emiya is more powerful than us both combined." He motioned a chin lift to his wife.

Tohsaka took the cue, and following, but not until after grabbing an appetizer off the table and putting it in her mouth. "He's right. I could never be as strong of Mage as Archer."

That caused Kei's eye to twitch, in his opinion, he'd seen strong Mages, his mother one of the most strongest.

Shirou stopped laughing instantly, but still with a the silliest smile, "You wouldn't of said that when you was younger."

She laughed back, slamming her hands on the table. "NOPE!" She erupted.

They all just laughed loudly, all three of the older adults.

"Unlimited Blade Works." The man in the long red coat said in a calm voice.

"Wha?" Ebisu spoke lifting an eyebrow.

"Unlimited Blade Works. It's not Emiya magic, just my magic, along with a few lesser, but equally important ones." He was filling his glass full from the bottle of wine.

Tohsaka nodded, allowing Emiya to go ahead, as if an unspoken understanding passed them.

"Can you show me?" Kei asked.

The other twin looked at him wide-eyed with a small-twitch of the face that issued the idea to Kei that he wasn't thrilled with the idea.

"I already am." He turned, smiling deeply, with a eye glint that seemed to give off a distinct idea that he was an elite in hiding. "Look up."

They both gawked above their heads.

Kei didn't flinch a bit, but eyes just widened and breath escaped him as above them at least ten swords floated mid-air, all different in shape than the other. Ebisu emitted a soft gaspy scream, which caused Shirou to chuckle and then dissipate them.

Floating down between them, little sparks of fire, the swords de-materialized and glittered out, like fire-flies slowly dying. Then nothing.

Kei slammed up from the table, away from his brother who still sat aghast.

"AMAZING!" He balled his fist.

"Settle down." Tohsaka said and Kei looked to her with a grunt of confusion.

"I won't teach you. If that's what your thinking." Shirou Emiya softly sighed. Shirou Emiya couldn't teach anyone. It wasn't a 'passed' magic, it wasn't something someone could master with a crest.

Kei's red cheeks and jaw showed his thoughts: 'why not? how rude.'

"Let's go outside." Emiya suggested.

The boys both gathered up themselves and so did Bartley.

Tohsaka: "You've always wondered what it looked like Bartley, now you can see for yourself." She put an arm with his arm and walked out the threshold with him.

Bartley smiled back. She was right. The Unlimited Blade Works that she told him about, that he had tried to perform himself, that he couldn't seem to figure out. He was more than curious.

They all eventually stood out on the porch, looking into the night sky. The moon was there, the stars.

Emiya stood by Bartley. "Are you ready?"

Bartley nodded, and Emiya nodded. Mage to Mage respect. Emiya looked down to the boys, Kei nodding, and Ebisu chewing his nail in insecurity.

He walked out into the blackened, night, about thirty feet out into the grassy backyard. The grass crushed under his tall riding boots. Crickets were chirping.

The first thing they noticed is everything got quiet.

Tohsaka decided to chime in and narrate as Shirou began for display purposes only.

First she shouted "SHIROU! There's a hay bail out there not to far off! You can use that!"

"Okay!" That was all he said.

She started to speak. "Animals can sense when mana is being moved. That's why everything is quiet."

They could feel it, Tohsaka, Bartley and Kei the strongest, and even Ebisu felt a twinge in him.

Silence. Darkness.

Bartley and Kei felt so nervous.

Mostly Bartley.

A whirred started the wind picking up underneath the area where Shirou stood, and a blue electric light started to spark. "If I'm a little rusty Tohsaka you can chastise me later!"

Tohsaka chuckled. "He's starting up the spell."

Suddenly the blue electric snapping turned into the biggest electric fire coming out of a Mage's body that Bartley had ever seen, and clearly, as the flames where so bright and consuming, and the noise of the crackling loud, like a freight train...

"Here it comes." Tohsaka grabbed her husband's hand. This was the spell helped Saber along with saving her life. That helped save the world's life, all of humanity's lives. He knew her husband had been dying to see it, he wanted to know what had saved them all against Gilgamesh's proposed genocide. He considered it pure pleasure to know the Mage that stopped the Wars but he'd always been curious.

She grabbed his hand because finally that curiosity was going to be fulfilled, and it made her happy to know Emiya was willing to help that out for him.

In a deep whirr, like a sudden hurricane, Ebisu was whining, his stomach flipping, among the growling whipping wind around him, the electricity, Ebisu was hanging on to one of the pillars of the porch, Kei hand over the eyes, to help shadow his view so he wouldn't have to look away, Shirou Emiya's voice grew throaty, and screamed:

"YOU ARE THE BONE OF MY SWORD!"

Bartley squeezed Tohsaka's hand. His breath deep.

Then Tohsaka squinted. A confused, awe-struck look crossed her face. Was... Emiya lifting off the ground?

"UNLIMITED BLADE WORKS!"

Then suddenly like stars in the sky, thousands of glowing small lights lit the evening sky above their heads, each little yellow dots forming into swords. Big swords, long swords, curved, Arabian, Samurai, knives of every shape.

Tohsaka gasped whispering to her husband as he stood frozen at the power. "I've never seen this many." She followed with a whisper. He husband was so striken with absolutely, beautiful awe, as someone would to seeing God himself, he was no use. He was frozen. Eyes quivering orbs. He was taking it all in.

This contributed to the saving of the world. Without this... he wouldn't of met Tohsaka, surely of perished in the fire created from the Grail being used by Gilgamesh. His family wouldn't of existed.

Shirou Emiya, in his eyes, was his savior. Was his family's savior.

Tohsaka's mind raced, shouting to her husband who she knew wasn't listening: "He's nearly twenty feet off the ground! His energy! I've! I've never seen it this powerful! He's memorized the details of so many swords! He's gathered so much strength..." Her voice fell flat as she realized it. "That he's learned to defy gravity to a point."

At that response, Kei's whole face came to tears.

It was the most power he'd ever experienced seeing in his entire life.

"How... many?" Kei trickled out. 'Thousands. It's thousands.'

Tohsaka: "Tens of Thousands."

Archer then calmly shouted to the Caseys. "READY!?"

"GO FOR IT ARCHER!" Tohsaka screamed. In her mind she mocked him 'If I'm rusty you can chastise me.' She mumbled. "As if. You've been practicing this whole time haven't you?"

Her mind went to understanding. It was more than ten thousand, more than fifty thousand, it was more than was possible to count in one setting, then all of a sudden like a whole army of archers he let them all go down on the hay bail. It was not possible to even believe that such power only came from one man.

It looked like a scene out of a war story based around ancient Chinese or Roman fire-archers. Like castle fortification archers laying siege to an army.

The was the day they all watched shiny, sparkling swords bellow down to the Earth and destroy the hail bail, and it was so powerful it left a mark in the backyard, a deep crater close to a hundred feet deep that never got filled.

Kei and Ebisu both understood (at least thought they understood then), why their mother called him 'Archer'.

That was the only day and the last day that the Caseys would ever see Unlimited Blade Works again.

Bartley now understood why Shirou Emiya was the savior of humanity.

The only savior of humanity.

A Hero of Justice.

* * *

 _September 7th, 2028_

A new member of the family was welcomed, but also with a death.

Ebisu had taken a wife.

She had bore a child, but died during childbirth.

Ebisu, still at such a young age, so young, to yet again to bear so unfortunate circumstances of his life.

At first it had weighed on him that his brother and parents were Mages and he wasn't, but that blow had been lessened and softened over the years, and now that that was no longer a daunting concern, he was witnessing yet another pain.

In new life, death came. Complications.

His mother, Tohsaka, cried in the corner holding the baby girl. Ebisu's wife, Lily, with her last dying breath named her Heather.

Ebisu had taken on a non-mage wife, someone he could relate to, much like himself, she was of a Mage family, the Clock Tower listed, House Gareth. She wasn't given the Mage descendant magics, her elder brother was, and she had been from a family of five.

So, the Casey's weren't the only ones who'd decided to do what they did, bearing multiple children, but letting the children decided among themselves who'd study the magic and bear the House Gareth Mage name.

Lily's elder brother Charles was the decided one among the five brothers and sisters. It had been between Lily and Charles in the end, but Lily decided ultimately she would rather go to a normal college and eventually, find a man she loved that she could marry and have children with, and that was the deal breaker for her. Being a Mage meant attending a Mage College, marrying another Mage of course was optional.

She wanted to be a veterinarian.

While she was able to produce simple magics without the bearing of the Gareth Crest, two-crossed swords very much looking like a burn on the flesh of her older brother's back, she wasn't as open about it as Ebisu was, she was even more closed off than he was.

That was something Ebisu never understood. He understood it, but not in it's entirety. She never shared why.

Also, her brother being a Mage didn't divide the family. It was just looked at as something that their family 'does'. That simple. For their familial crest was very old, and had been passed down for so many generations that it wasn't painful for the receiver as it had been for his brother, Kei.

Lily and Ebisu, they were similar enough, and fell in love quick, marrying after a few short years, and bore a child.

The only child they'll ever have.

Ebisu never remarried. He wouldn't have children outside of marriage, it was a personal creedo he stuck to.

And he lived up to it.

* * *

 _September 7th, 2036_

Heather Casey was eight years old.

"You know I can't have children." Kei went on to his brother down the hall from their parent's room, he looked out across the field, where nearing twelve years ago Shirou Emiya blew a hole in the backyard, a giant crater, now covered with grass, and somehow, their father still went and mowed it in some sort of odd 'worship' Kei thought.

Really, Ebisu looked at it as a respect that he held for Shirou's power.

Kei had found out a few years later, after Heather's birth, that he was not 'potent'.

He was infertile. He had Klinefelter's Syndrome. He was born with two X chromosome's rather than being born with a normal X and Y, like male's should be.

No one of them knew it. Normally they would of caught this at an early age, had it been the case that they were born at a normal hospital, but they weren't they were born at a hospital with a mid-wife.

It had been Tohsaka's asking. She didn't want a normal doctor with normal testing, due to the Mage bloodline, and it had been a tradition of the Tohsaka family to do mid-wifes.

If any, that was the one tradition she stuck too. She still had a relationship with her mid-wife to this day, they were friends and every weeks went out and shopped together.

The boys even knew her as a surrogate aunt, 'Aunt Jackie.'

"I disagree." Ebisu Casey shook his head at his brother. "Look what magic can do Kei." He pointed to the field.

"That's an example of what magic can do to save others Ebisu." He defended it.

"Or destroy people. How do we know? We don't know that Emiya."

"So are you saying that with power, all Mages could turn and use it to hurt people?" Kei crossed his arms, sickened. "That's a dark thought."

"You heard me. I'm not taking it back. It can be dangerous. Remember all those swords? How dangerous is that Kei? Seriously?"

"I know. Shirou Emiya is on a level that none of us will ever obtain, you know that right?"

He leaned on the pillar, the same one he'd been hanging onto that night when the hundreds of thousands of swords rained down like fire from heaven.

Things were starting to get heated between them, they were both exactly thirty years old, and their spit-fire nature in disputes still lingered.

"I'm not letting it happen."

Kei turned to him with a brutish look.

"She's my daughter."

"She's the only heir to the Caseys!" Kei erupted.

"I'm not letting her even have the chance, or the thought cross her mind that she could use power to do evil!" He spit back at him into the night.

"Are you kidding? Ebisu! This is when we teach her the fundamentals to her being a good human being!"

"Don't you think I've been doing that the best I can already without Lily?" He balled a fist in anger.

"Do you drag that into this!"

"I am!" Ebisu was upset. "Do you think it's ben easy raising this little girl? Do you?"

Kei's face slightly softened, his normal look, rough but something in his eyes always spoke more. "No." He said flatly.

"What if Kei?"

Kei shook his head back and forth softyly, and pulled to look way from him. His mind raced. Something was just about to break within him, with his brother's demeanor, and still, ever lingering fright towards magic.

Ebisu on that night was completely frozen in terror at Emiya. He was the opposite, he reveled in the feeling of mana stirring his blood, in the sight of the man floating off the ground, arms spread wide like Jesus on the Cross, like a god himself.

That's why he knew. There was no fighting it.

He wanted to sock Ebisu out. It was more important to him to keep his daughter 'safe', her mentality on life and on magic guarded than to allow the lineage to continue.

"Every goodness I instilled in her could just be wiped away."

"I don't believe that." Kei whispered out. "She's strong. Stronger than I was." He referred to receiving the new House Casey crest when he was eight, that circuited crest that spanned across his upper right arm, in the same place as the old Tohsaka crest, it's placement purposeful.

"No."

Kei looked into Ebisu's eyes, not with a pleaded, hopes destroyed face, but more of a 'are you sure?'... He wanted to punch him so badly.

Ebisu nodded, glaring in his eyes, with more certainty than he's ever possessed.

Kei sniffed, disgusted and left the porch area.

He twin sighed and shook his head turning away.

This would be the last that Ebisu and Kei spoke for many years.

Both so strong in their convictions. Both so stubborn in their convictions.

Much like their mother.

Much like Shirou as well.

Much like Mages.

* * *

 _January 23rd 2056_

Rin Tohsaka passed.

Both boys were there on opposite end of the grave.

Kei stood by himself. His mother's son.

Ebisu stood by his father, who mourned horrifically. Ebisu tried to calm him, handing him tissue after tissue, and Kei watched this emotional episode.

He left the funeral early, but not before he caught sight of a man, standing tall from far away.

In red jacket.

Shirou Emiya.

It was the last glimpse of the now, completely gray headed, Shirou Emiya that Kei Casey would ever get.

He stopped walking to his car.

The man, even though similarly aged as their mother, looked so similar to how he had before, older, but still very fit, he noted.

He stared.

Tears.

He watched them coming down over Emiya's cheeks. The pain on the man's face overwhelming and he could tell he was whispering to himself to calm himself.

Kei's mind fluttered, perhaps he was saying a mantra? Perhaps he was doing magic? He couldn't feel any mana being used.

He was just whispering, standing there, unmoving in the light drizzle, his hair getting matted down.

Kei heard his whimper.

Kei's mind went to the conversation he'd had years ago with his brother, intently watching the elder Mage that he seen as someone who was completely on a different level than him, an elite cry, his pain so deep.

 _'she could use the power to do evil!'_

Kei shook his head profusely. Never could that man do evil. He watched the way he mused. There was love written over his features.

No man ever cried like that without intense feeling of love. He'd seen Ebisu cry over Lily. He'd just watched his father mourning.

Equally torn were both men.

Kei mumbled as he stumbled off down the hill leaving Emiya to cry alone, as he had left his brother and father to mourn with all the other family members he didn't care to speak to. "For someone to mourn over someone like that."

He very well should be crying, he was closest to his mother; he admitted that it pained him and he felt more alone now, but he couldn't bring himself to.

His mother, a Tohsaka, had taught him a many times that death was just a natural part of life, like somehow, she knew something more that she wasn't letting onto, and she made him tough in his mageworks and tough in mentality.

"There's always a way for a Mage to make a logical decision to not use magic for evil. You're wrong Ebisu. So wrong." He shook his head, stepping into his Cadillac and pulled out of the drive at the cemetery.

* * *

They say that when Emiya Shirou was hung nearly a year later, he was laughing.

Like he was ready.

Like he wasn't afraid.

He was.


	2. Chapter 2

2

 _September 7th 2058_

Gilgamesh was going to wait longer, but he was getting anxious.

Internally his guts swirled in maliciousness, he was tired of feeling the dark sludge surrounding him, it's coils like thick, viscous liquid rubber around his whole body. It moved through him, The Grail, not like his own blood, it made his pores feel papery, his appearance like he'd been poisoned, with purple strings of surface level patterned veins; his skin transparent and pale much like that little girl he'd killed for her heart.

"My Gilgamesh." Speaking vainly to himself, looking at his image in a reflective river of bloodied human parts, ever lingering and flowing inside the Grail, much like The Phlagathon. He punched into the water and the Grail whined as a response. "DISGUSTING!"

He was irked by his appearance. He longed very much so to see his healthful youth again, to have the 'glow' of being alive.

"My my. Even my eyes have gone blood shot." He commented. "How utterly demon I appear."

He burst out laughing, a mass hysteria. His cackling bounced off the Grail's surfaces and the Grail mimicked with a weird, oozy laugh that was utterly non-human and not even a sound that could be emitted from a mortal voice-box.

"Well what do you say, my devout healer?" He ushered to the Lesser Grail for a response. He wasn't afraid of letting the thing understand that he didn't like what it had done to his silhouette, morphing it so. It seemed to have no care in the matter.

After all, they'd sort of developed a tit-for-tat relationship, even after they both had been completely healed. It was just that the Grail never prodded back.

"Are you ready to start it up?"

The Grail emitted a weird, childlike cackle. Like a ghost.

Gilgamesh clearly expected to see a form out of the corner of his eye, he seen nothing.

It was remaining rather complacent today. It was ready to play though, just as much as him.

He stood firm, forming a sword out of his endless treasure. He grabbed it.

A beautiful sparkling sword, he looked at his reflection in the diamond cut sapphires around it's cuff.

The Grail gurgled.

"Ah lovely isn't it?"

Gilgamesh was obsessed. He had all the time to feast himself in his treasures, to get re-acquainted with his entire ledger.

He began to do some simple sword fighting kata inside the Grail, poses all perfect, left then right, then a breeze underneath, that blow would take out a human's guts. He snapped up straight, the silver blade in front of his handsome face, half a black reflection with his bloody-eyes gleaming wicked across.

"Mesopotamian laid gold. Carved by the finest smiths of my time. This one is one of my richest. Which is why I'll allow it to touch my fingers."

It was the picture perfect example of a human with a unique, personal purpose. A fruit of labor from that purpose. An example of why, so many must perish and choke and burn.

He pointed the sword into the fogged air, extending his leg out in a crouching stance, ankle turned, right hand backwards and out. A position of ease for him, from it he ushered:

"We're both healed now my 'friend'." The King of All Treasure emphasized that word, he no less would call the omnipotent chalice a friend as he would a callous entity, or Shirou Emiya, he simply used the term to entreat to Grail to thinking he actually cared for it, when he actually didn't at all, and when the time came to abandon it, he'd gladly.

For now, tricking the Grail to thinking his loyalty laid with it was his hope.

"What do you say to beginning today? Thank you for being an open ear to my wishes." He stood up and bowed, faking, the courtesy an illusion.

The Grail wheezed. The blood in the river of sludge for a second flowed back the other direction, then quickly resumed back to normal, the broken arms and legs hastily thrashing like reeds in a pond to strong wind.

Gilgamesh leaned to realize that that response was equal to a sigh.

Never would he of imagined that he'd of lowered himself to the level of shared conversation, albeit only a silent conversation he'd have with it (as it only responded with sounds), with an object he once viewed as a treasure.

Now he viewed it as also a prison.

Gilgamesh, like a mad dog, had not another soul to speak to all these years, so much that it was like he got accustomed to speaking to the walls of his jail cell that had incarcerated him.

It chuckled his chuckle.

* * *

"Happy Birthday Heather!"

"Randy. Get that camera out of here!" She swung an awry hand at the device, obviously not trying to grab it, but just doing it to 'play around'. She laughed and the camera on the phone caught her taking a sip of bubbly. A few other people were laughing in the background.

A girl with blonde hair sat a small cake with candles down in front of her. "Come'on Hea-th! We've gotta celebrate! It's your big 3-OH!"

"Yeh yeh." She took another sip, setting it down on the table. "Wow!" She mocked, her Irish accent thick. "I seen you guys went all out for this one."

A girl in the background somewhere spoke up as the camera remained on her face: "We did the best we could in such a sort amount of time!"

The camera panned around to show a quick flash of Randy, who put up the peace symbol and stuck his tongue out, then quickly panned it around to face Heather, just in time.

She loomed over the three and zero shaped candles on the cake.

"You guys, you're the best. All these years together in Chicago, you know..." She took in a deep breath, getting a little choked up. "I love every one of you in this room. Before I blow out these candles..." She raised her fluted glass. "Let's do a toast!" Her thin form stood.

Rustling camera. Noises.

A pan. Zooming.

It shot panoramic across a room of people. Seven total, including the birthday girl and the cameraman, Randy.

Heather cleared a throat, and that Irish svelte tone came out. "I know since we all got to know one another, that we all had different plans with our lives. We're a room of doctors!" She held the glass up, and everyone hooted. "We all went to different colleges, different medical schools, we all did our rounds at different hospitals. But finally!" She laughed out a tear. "We've all accepted our five years. Julian! Finally you got it. You're going to start doing head trauma surgeries, and helping people."

A male voice, lightly mumbled out. "Damn time."

The whole room lit only by candles.

Voices of joking, happiness and tidings.

"Harriet, you're going back home right? That was your goal?"

A soft 'Yeh'.

"Never the less, no matter what choices we make from here on out!" Heather raised the glass even higher above the cake, the candle flames flickering across her black coat and sweater, creating glints in those ice blue orbs. "We all must remember, we've worked hard all for the sake of saving someone, for saving others! It's our job! That's our goal; it was our decision and our choice to do so. We've crafted ourselves into fine doctors, all of different modes, whether family or surgeon, ENT or cancers, we've done it to help others. Doctors like none other are the true testaments to our world that we'll put our sanity on the line." She laughed abruptly as everyone else did too. "We all know how tireless we worked through school. Let's just remember the reasons we did it okay?"

Heather Casey put the flute filled with champagne out in front of her.

"LET US NEVER FORGET!"

Everyone in the room held the bubbly out and took a sip, clapping, camera shuffling and zoom in on her face. Steady, a smile.

Her lips pursed, she winked at the lens, and blew them out.

Darkness.

* * *

 _The Next Day, September 8th, 2058_

"Yeh I accepted a position back in England."

"Ah, so where will you be then birthday girl?" A crackled electric-like voice popped through the smartphone causing her to hold it back for a bit, the connection bad.

"London."

"Good. I'm glad you're coming close to home finally."

"I know dad, after a few years of not visiting. I'm sorry, you know I'm sorry."

A 'yeh yeh' came through the line.

"How's grandpa?"

"Well you know." The voice saddened. "He's not doing the best."

She was packing a bag while talking on the phone, adjusting the phone from one shoulder to another, but that note in her father's voice stopped her, she sat on the edge of the bed. The time of her renting this room, the last day tomorrow.

"Not good still?"

"No Heather. He's not recovering from the cold he's had. You now how the elderly are with sicknesses."

She knew, that he knew that she, of all people, as a graduated doctor, for she was the oldest of her peers, that she understood the effects of things even such as a simple virus could do to aging bodies.

He went on: "Pops is in bed now. I'm here, Kei was here yesterday. Cold as ever. You know."

She sighed, an eye-roll.

"He was taking care of Pops for a few weeks while I was on visit to your mother's grave. Laying my flowers as normal paying my respects."

Heather Casey knew that that was what bonded the two together even more. Her father and grandpa. For her father had told her that as a child Kei was closer to grandma, but since her grandma's death, her uncle and her grandpa didn't re-kindle some lost time, rather uncle just grew more distant.

Her dad and grandpa both similarly suffered in agony over lost loved ones.

She didn't understand why her uncle was so dark and lofty, more of a background noise than a warm-hearted member of the family, for he'd lost grandma, the person he looked to the most as a child; she'd always felt a stoney resentment boiling out of the man.

She'd only seen him in her adult-life, three times maybe. They'd said maybe six or seven words to each other. Some strange 'hellos', awkward stares.

Packing resumed, she opened a top drawer of a oak dresser, socks and underwear; a new suitcase zipped open, a bigger one.

"Well, it's getting to the point where we are thinking of in-home care..." Fingers frivolously grabbed and stuffed soft socks into rows. "so that if I or Kei can't be here then a nurse could be here to take care of him and give him his medicine." A brownish-red strand of hair fell in her face, standard to an Irish lineage that was not exclusively only Irish, she stuffed it back behind and ear.

"Mhmm." Scratching an eyebrow she grabbed more, phone held in place by shoulder and ear.

"I don't want to go back to living here, at the family home, I'm here a lot as it is, but I need my space from it all. I need my own space."

"I get that dad." She stuffed more socks in place. Her father, Ebisu, and her were the closest. Their relationship as close as Pops and her father's were. The only black sheep was her uncle.

"While he is resting here, I think I'm going to go on to bed here soon, you know it's hours later here than it is there. Probably get some dinner also, I have no idea what I'm going to start making though; I'm hoping Kei remembered to buy some groceries, I didn't have time today to hit the market." That strong Irishman's voice filtered through the over-shore line. "I'm glad we can at least agree on these terms. It's nice to be able to have some help in regards to this situation. You see, I don't really think, and I don't like to think, that your uncle is really that disagreeable. Would you say Heather?"

"I guess." She mouthed with a bit of a sarcastic tone. Like she knew!

Supposedly for the first time in years, they back on talking terms. Forced conversation though, as it was about grandpa.

"Yeh." A brawny laugh. It warmed her and made her smile. "He's a pain in the arse, we don't see eye to eye, but damn it I feel more secure that we can share some sort of ideal in taking care of dad..."

She grabbed and a hand scraped against something hard below a pile of underwear.

Her attention changed from conversation that her dad was having in her ear in regards to her shadowy uncle, to wondering what she grasped. Whatever it was, it was stuck on something and she yanked it out with a quick huff.

Ebisu didn't notice, the line was too scratchy to make out any other noise. "You know... you think with this going on and all that he would move to town and try to at least be closer to us or something..."

She held it up.

"because he keeps having to leave to go back to his house over there in Berkshire. I wish he would go on already and sell that thing..."

It was a heart gem necklace.

"It's old anyway, you know, cottage and all. That's his humble side, I always entreated him to being grandiose, so that's why his choice of living always confused me."

Her mind spoke of older memories. 'That's right!' She held the glinty heart up to her face, it was so beautiful.

"He always seems to have the money though to pay for things around here. I'm glad he is willing to lend a wallet to what's going on, unfortunately with me having a leg problem right now, where I've gotta use this cane, I'm down and out for the count and..."

'It was grandmas.' The aura of it, it sort of sucked her in. In it, she was staring to her own eyes, staring back at her. For a second, the murmur of her father inside her ear, his voice, husky and familiar droning, she felt pleasant, a sense of calm wash over her, sort of like the necklace itself was telling her 'everything's okay'.

"I just can't get around well. I'm not as bad off, but damn I wish this was fixed." Pause. "Are you listening Heather?"

She snapped out of it. "Yeh. Sorry." Tossing the heart necklace in the pack and grabbing underwear next. She forgot all about that thing being in there. She'd not laid her eyes to it since she'd moved in a few years ago.

It was her grandma's. Kind of gaudy she thought, not her taste, that was why she'd never wear it, but nevertheless she'd better keep it, or she wouldn't hear the end of it from her dad.

* * *

 _September 9th, 2058_

 _Now boarding. Delta Flight 304-A, Chicago, O'Hare International to London, Heathrow._

 _Flight Time: 12:15 PM, expected take-off 12:50 PM._

 _Flight Time approximately 8 hour, 35 minute._

 _Attention, Now boarding._

"Thank God!" She wiped the yellow crust out of her eye, she had no idea why she waited until the very last day to pack everything, what a stupid mistake! Somehow she still managed to be highly procrastinating in her daily life. She was paying for it now, as she'd only gotten five hours of sleep last night.

This morning had been a wreck, between turning in keys, saying last goodbyes, calling a cab, being on the phone international with her friend David (making sure he'd be there to pick her up at Heathrow), she'd gotten no breakfast.

But now, she haphazardly jammed a egg spinach wrap into her mouth, and the warmth of the tortilla calmed her nerves. Next thing she needed was just a coffee.

Airliner coffee sucked, but it was available.

She passed her ticket to the podium clerk. Without a word she soundlessly hole-punched it and signed off an initial.

Heather nodded in appreciation, lugging up her black tote carry-on, the strap a bit heavy as she'd over-packed it full of the last items in her small room in the shared Chicago home. A home vacant now, rented out by three doctors: her, her colleague Max, and Prishna.

The ticket was handed back, a piece of it missing now as it had been ripped off on the end.

The line for the flight was ants to anthill. Single-file, then down the long, wheeled in hallway that gets attached to the wall, the movable ones that the airports use to lock up a linked area for passengers boarding to and from an airline.

That familiar white noise hum hit her hears.

She picked a window seat and with a few unsuccessful pushes struggled to get her bag slammed into the overhead. A young gentleman, probably 21 or so, young to her age at least, helped push it in as a genuine courtesy and walked to sit in a row further back.

One would think a mid-week flight for London would be more sardines than it was. Some seats were vacant and nobody was sitting by her.

Kicking back, she felt the plane's engines switching gears, speeding, a familiar rock as the brakes were let go of, the plane jerking a bit, a large plane, a jet liner of huge proportions, with two hallways.

Take off always made her queasy, but as soon as the plane was sailing smoothly above Chicago, the fields of Illinois spreading the view-space, stringy cirrus clouds below, she instead opted for an in-flight action movie and no coffee.

Sleep was taking her and she could soak in a few hours at least. She'd gain some hours on the plane anyway, as she'd be travelling hundreds of miles an hour over time-zones.

* * *

 _Later_

She awoke and the lights were lowered in the plane.

Instantly she felt herself choking on the headphone wire that was jacked up around her neck. She struggled with un-lacing it, she realized, that it had constricted around her neck, like how a new, tight hair-tie leaves a mark on a wrist.

She whipped it off and tossed it in the vacant adjacent seat.

"Uh. Man. What time is it?" She pulled her phone out. '6 PM. Not possible.'

Her phone wasn't catching up to the time zones changes just yet. She'd at least gained an hour and a half at that point from time-zones, maybe two. England time, had to be 8 PM.

A face getting blushed. She rubbed her neck. She sure hoped that she wasn't out-right snoring. How embarrassing!

An attendant saw her wake and came over.

"Hello! Is there anything I can assist you with?"

"Mhhm?" Heather turned, pulling up on her sweater, adjusting it around, (including her bra underneath), the right strap was twisted now. "Just a bottle of water, if you've got it."

The woman, a black-headed lady handed her one.

"Thank you."

Twisting the cap off, a vicious chug, and rubbing an eye, Heather's vision was blurry of the woman walking away in her light blue Delta Airlines uniform. Heather never should of fallen asleep with headphones on. It had made her ears ache.

Speaking of her ears and vision being skewed, it suddenly dawned that she was in darkness.

She didn't really need anything out of her pack, as it was stuffed with just the remaining items in her room. Another carelessness. She should of at least packed it with some items she'd need on the immediate flight, if any at all.

Her dry lips enclosed the bottle's opening for another luscious sip. Each water company had a different taste to it, water having taste in itself was peculiar. It was some cheap brand, but it didn't matter. She cleared her throat and sat back.

She let a dreary brain wander.

What would she do after she recovered from the jet lag that she knew she'd experience? It's a month she'd have off until starting up at the children's hospital in London.

She supposed she could travel around, maybe take up her aunt on her mom's side's invitation and come on holiday to their home and stay with them. It'd been awhile since she'd seen her cousins. She'd always adored the two-sword shield mantelpiece over the fireplace in their home's den.

Honestly, she'd only been there three times. Her father was always fishy about her going, something mentioned about the elder brother Charles that he didn't like too well.

Uncle Charles was so warm and funny!

Man was he funny!

The only memories that she had of him were out barbecuing on a grill, laughing and drinking a pint of dark ale. He wasn't that awful.

She figured maybe it was bad blood. Something happened that she didn't understand.

Heather got that it was hard for her dad, after her mother, (who she never knew) died giving birth to her. She'd seen pictures, and her mother was quite the 'hoot' as the men say in Ireland.

Her mind traveled again without her catching it to a plane, that once she realized she was on, she tried steer it from:

To the tension.

A mind was too hazy at the moment to care too much.

It wandered free.

It was a feeling she got.

Always a nervousness around Uncle Kei. He was a quiet one, mysterious. But she'd watched others try to entice him in conversation, never did it work. He just would eye her dad, then be quiet, sometimes leaving.

But he wasn't the only one.

She'd caught Kei and Pops talking once. Never did she get the content, as it died down as she came close, like they knew she was there, coming, inching closer.

That was one instance when she realized that whatever was being said wasn't for her to hear.

Her Pops.

Her family.

She knew it was full of secrets.

Old secrets.

Past secrets.

She hated it.

She broke the mental state. She popped a button. The overhead bulb above her head lighted.

Breathing in deep, lungs filling with air, she realized, being cooped up on this plane didn't allow her to smoke, and she was craving one; unsuccessful at quitting. She'd tried a few times, but it always came back.

'What a habit!'

Irritated, she fumbled with the seat belt, unrolling it from being like a rope around her waist. The movie had restarted and she launched a free hand for the headphones again. Might as well give it another go. She had probably three more hours.

It's help her ignore her cravings.

The light snapped off.

* * *

 _Even later_

She found the flick to be not quite as much of 'snorer'. It had some hilarious points to it, and with a few others somewhere behind her, she chuckled with them in unison as the main character launched himself off of a building and landed in a trash bin.

It was meant to be a spoof movie that was not-so-serious.

Uncomfortable, fingertips adjusted the plush sweater; sitting up she stretched and scratched at the cuff of her garment.

The actor, brawny, Heather whispered under her breath. "Not my type."

She preferred more brain over brawn, maybe an equal combination of both. The meat-head men really set her off, she never could grasp how someone could be so athletic but yet so unnervingly dumb. She figured maybe it was some sort of act with that lot, as humans tried to find their respective groups where they felt 'welcomed' and cared for. Usually groups of people acted certain ways.

Never did she ever think they were actually idiots. But perhaps only setting an image that the group upheld. She therein realized, maybe it wasn't the fact that they sometimes acted this way that she was so turned off by, but more so the concept that they were allowing themselves to 'be molded'.

'Yeh, that's what I don't like.'

She'd never been successful at finding a true partner, her dad had gotten married in his early twenties. But, between medical school and rounds, now this five year sign on with London Children's, she didn't have the time to invest in a relationship.

Career driven, was always how it was.

She found people to be a bit more impressionable than she liked too.

Being molded, allowing themselves to be molded by the people around them and their environments, but changing as the group changed so that they still fit in like a puzzle piece.

She always hoped that she'd find a person more like her, she never really fit in anywhere.

Heather yanked at her sweater's sleeve again.

She was like her Uncle Kei, but in a different way.

She felt accepted by her dad and pops. Even though her career took her to America, and they disagreed, they still supported the decision.

So in her life, she'd had immeasurable success in standing out on her own, and not really 'joining' a group. Her friends also liked her for who she was, even her professors.

They made her realize that in a corporate environment, it was best to fit in, but they taught her the value of still remaining an individual at heart, at best.

Because that was what was best.

A loud BOOM through the headphones brought her eyes back to the wall mounted tv inside the plane. The character was running like a 'bat outta hell' as Pops always said, and he tripped and fell flat on his face.

Quite dumb humor.

She laughed, rubbing her wrist on her jeans.

'Damn sweater. Shouldn't of wore this on the plane.'

Another explosion, and a whole building blew completely apart.

Heather wondered how the film companies could budget something like this, let alone, find the space to blow the crap out of random constructions.

It wouldn't be a job she'd be good at; her life would be different if she'd went down that path.

A mind like her's consistently wandered, much like her grandpa's. Her dad always made fun of her for it.

She pulled Chapstick out and blamed her lips.

Heather couldn't help it. She always wondered time to time what it be like had she chosen a different career path. Her now ex-roomate Prishna and her spoke about it before. They had dinner one night about a year ago, and talked about other things they 'would of' done had they not chose med-school.

She couldn't imagine Prishna being a bio-engineer. She was just too outgoing and needed a job where she could be talking with people.

Whenever she thought of bio-anything, she thought of a labcoat, stuffed up inside a brightly florescent lit laboratory, pushing colored liquids into test tubes, and putting them inside spinning tables.

She was so glad!

Prishna was meant to be a family doctor.

Much like her, she knew she loved kids. While not having a family of her own, she still, somehow got along with children so well. She thought maybe it had to do with her silly personality. She was serious, but just serious enough. She knew when to let loose.

At least, that was one aspect of her personality she actually liked about herself.

Heather scratched.

Looked down.

"Okay. That's enough." She whispered. 'What the hell.' She grabbed her sleeve and hoisted it up looking at her right arm. 'Is something inside of it er what?'

She shook the sleeve dangerously fast, and to her surprise nothing fell out. Her squarish jaw, dropped a bit. That was astonishing to her.

Her pushed in on her stomach, as all women do, to look around in her lap.

Nothing.

She shook her sweater in and out around her torso.

Surely others around her, if paying attention, which they weren't because it was dark and they were all either asleep or watching with lazy lids the sad excuse for a film on the tele, would think she'd gotten a beetle in her clothing.

Heather snapped a light on again above her head.

This time to scan.

Something was itching her, and knowing her personal medical history, she'd better figure it out.

Heather cautiously flipped her thin right arm over to reveal the underside, where a little mole sat on it.

Nothing.

She flipped it back over again, the side that was just as smooth, but with a light coating of arm hair.

Nothing there either.

Then she held up her wrist.

And what was on it the back of her hand caused her nose to snarl up.

"Damn it." She breathed out. She had a peanut allergy, it wasn't life threatening, but it sure made things annoying. Her left hand shot to the inside coat pocket of her long black jacket and she brushed her shoulder length hair away from her field of view so she could rustle fingers around.

Benedryl. Allergy medicine.

'What did I eat today?'

Her mind rushed over the wrap. It had eggs, spinach, some roasted red peppers.

She had not checked the label though, she was just so hungry she snatched it up and began to devour.

'How clumsy. I'm a doctor! I should seriously be paying closer attention.'

She eye-rolled at herself for being so hasty, and by doing so, exposed herself to something that caused her skin to crawl. It didn't matter, that wrap could of touched peanut oil or something being packaged wherever it was packed. Could of had fragments of peanuts in it from a surface that had had the legumes chopped up on it previously.

Heather popped two Benedryl and washed it down with the rest of her water.

So much for a movie.

She'd be snoozing out again soon. The allergy medication always had a lofty effect on her, and it made her tired.

But not before rubbing on topical ointment.

She jerked it out of the pocket and squeezed out a fair amount into her palm.

The only spot she seen a red mark showing up was on her hand.

'It must of not been that bad of an exposure.'

She began to rub it in.

The red blotch showing up looked round in shape. It wasn't large, but itchy as hell.

She nonchalantly pulled the sweater down over her shoulder, revealing a red bra strap, but not to anyone except herself.

No dots or blotches on her chest or upper body, where she normally got them.

"Alright low level exposure. Those pills should do it then." She mumbled to herself.

Heather snapped out a the light and reached for her gloves.

Her father's email said it was cold all this week anyway.

She put them on.

No way was she gunna allow herself to scratch away at her skin. She'd made that fatal mistake before and that just made it worse.

About thirty minutes later, with the main beefcake on the lightbox droning about some gun that he had to acquire to blow up a boat, Heather realized the itching was subsiding and yet again she was passing out.

* * *

 _Very Late That Night_

A jerk awoke her. A noise.

Pilot.

 _Welcome to London. Time at Heathrow Airport 11:05 PM. Slight turbulence caused a forty minute delay out of standard flight time. Please be safe unloading and thank you for choosing Delta._

Her eyes shot open.

'Shit!'

Her gloved hands scrambled for her phone, it had fallen between the seat and her side. She snatched it out with a little trouble, but once she had it she knew exactly what to do.

She whipped her left glove off, with 60 percent battery remaining, she was good.

Screen lit up from blackness.

Airplane mode flickered off with a quick slide.

"Call David." She said, hoarse voice escaping her lips.

After a few rings a whispy Londoner voice, familiar, answered. "Why holy hell! There you are!"

"Yeh, we had a delay." Her phone was to her ear and shoulder, her glove back on hand. She stood and stretched.

That guy that helped her with the pack-stuffing walked by and smiled at her, and she smiled back as he passed. He was getting off first before the surge of people all ushered to slam off the jet.

'Smart man.' Her mind jested.

"So I kind of figured. Planes are always late, so are rails."

"Mhm. Yep. I'm sorry about that."

"No need."

She brought her arms back down and looked around at the passengers getting off, she'd be the last of them, she hung back in her seat, waiting for them all to get out first.

"Yeh I fell asleep on the plane."

"I always do too. You're flight terminal is uh.." She heard rustling, she held the phone back from her ear with a brow twitch and as he started gibbering again she put it back to her ear. "B-8. You want me to go ahead and head over there."

"Sure. Where are you now?"

"Uh main entrance. I was waiting around. They didn't have the terminal popped up for a minute, so that's how I figured your flight was running past due."

"Ah gotcha. Is it cold?"

"For September? Yeh. Abnormally chilly."

"That's what dad said."

"How is that old fart anyway?"

She chuckled. "You know, still with a cane, he's rollin'."

"Ah okay. That's good though."

"Is your boyfriend home, or did he come with you?"

"You know he's gotta get up early to go make money with the fishes."

"Fishes?"

"New job. He works for Albright and Rich now."

"Law firm? When'd that happen?" She moved back towards the inner seat again as a large woman tried to pass her while she was still sitting towards the interior hallway. She used the moment to put her black felt trench back on.

"About a month ago. I guess I never told ye." He coughed, it was clear he was up walking around now. She was buttoning it up. "He scored it, finally were both making a good income."

"Man, that's so good to hear!" Sincerity in her voice. She snapped Chapstick open and reapplied. She remembered applying it, but it had worn off, probably in sleep.

"Well get off the phone, and save it's battery. This toilet phone I have is a wreck. Almost dead. Gotta use your's for GPS."

"Ah that's fine I'll see you in a few."

* * *

They're embrace was long and a flat out annoying to some so late at night.

People grumbled around them as he lifted her and spun her around like a standard boyfriend.

They heard an 'ahh!' from somewhere. Some young lass had thought it was cute, somewhere.

Too bad that it was 'just David'.

And David Hicklemann was gay, gay as hell.

He grabbed her pack, David still chidding. Mocking. "Well come along honey dear." He patted her head.

She leached away.

"Well it's not proper of a young gentleman to not grab 'muh ladies things." He reached for her luggage, snapping the handle out.

She laughed. "You haven't changed a bit."

* * *

 _September 10th, 2058_

"Christ ALL MIGHTY!" David exploded. "London!"

"You're the one that chose to live in it David." She flattened the collar down on her jacket.

"Yeh, but two in the morning!" He parked.

He helped her grab her things, hauling them up the old wooden round staircase inside the building.

"These stairs are so steep! How?"

"It wasn't my idea." David blurted. "You know I spoil him like a brat. You got jet lag?"

"Uh yeh. It's bad too. I slept on the plane, but it just wasn't enough."

"That's odd, usually it has the opposite effect. You're physically exhausted but unable to sleep."

"Nah. I feel like I could sleep for a whole 'nuther night."

The door swung open after much fiddling with the lock.

David put a finger to his mouth and a 'shh' expression crossed his lips. He was in no position to wake his partner, and Heather was their guest for the night, so she'd abide by all laws and rules of household of course.

He hushed to her, opening the guest bed room on the right of the yellow-painted hallway. "Yours. It's the guest. Lue is down hall to the left. Let's not do bathing til tomorrow. Okay?"

She nodded.

The shower here must be loud, and David was concerned. He was a good mate. He always did what was in his partner's best interests. As she hoped, so did his partner with him.

She gave David another kick hug and walked in snapping out the light switch behind her. Door shutting. "Back in England. My world." She mumbled, looking around at the quaint furnishings in the dark. They hadn't lived here long, not long enough to buy new home items.

'I'd never haul furniture up those stairs. Never.'

She, uncannily, flung her clothing and just let it fall to a heap at the floor. Like an adolescent. She's been messy as a teen, and she'd cleaned that up after a few years of college, but this tired.

If this was what jet lag felt like, it was horrible.

Her black felt trench fell first. Then her gloves. Sweater over her head.

Down to red bra and skinny jeans.

Heather sat on the bed and ran some fingers through her thick shoulder-length locks which had the tendency to want to 'wave'. She combed it out naturally, not caring of finding a brush.

Her thinking was that she was 'allowed' to be a slob for a little bit here. She just got back in country.

'I'll pick it up tomorrow.'

She eventually slipped everything off and re-dressed in bed clothing. A black pair of terry shorts and a black tank. How in the darkness she didn't know, but it happened with ease. It helped that at least the main luggage of hers was packed in an 'un-rushed' manner.

Her hand ran across the heart necklace.

'Still there?'

Her mind spoke tiredly, as if the necklace would answer her. Personify itself and come to life.

"Boy. I'm a mess." She stated softly, a whisper as a light passed outside the building window. A vehicle, just passing. Gone as quick as it flashed by. She zipped the black luggage bag back up.

Heather pulled the duvet and sheets back and crawled under them like a tired puppy. Her head nodded itself a hole in the down pillow, a habit she'd had since she was a little girl.

She'd always used her head to make a crater for itself in the soft pillow she laid it on.

Lamely she mumbled as she felt her body slowly starting to numb out:

"Goodnight England."

She chuckled faintly.


	3. Chapter 3

3

 _September 10th, 2058_

Something delicious woke her. It smelled like sausage, that familiar pork product being grilled to perfection inside an iron skillet.

Deja vu.

It crossed her. Recalling the smell from a past moment; Father cooking in the kitchen at Pops, Grandma whizzing around the table placing dishes, grandpa laughing over some news report on the tele, his dry humored jokes, bland if you couldn't catch them. It had taken her years to actually snag the humor.

All slight of word and facial expression.

After she hooked it though, it was one of the funniest things.

Now all that was missing was that familiar smell of morning glories that grew outside on the trellis and Momma Rin's famous honeyed matcha.

The thought of a hot meal enticed her enough.

Heather grumbled, peeling herself out from under the heavy duvet on the bed. The boys had already dug out their winter bedding for the upcoming season. A back crack. She swore, one day, if she didn't see the chiropractor soon, something awful would happen.

She wasn't the most healthful in the world, and the years of slavery to her career and passions only posed the problem more. Many many nights had been spent looming over worktables, dissecting; over her study desk with a brightly lit, adjustable lamp memorizing anatomy, diseases. All important material.

The sheer angle of the posture set her back to it's slow decline. That'd be something she'd do in a week or two. It wasn't that expensive, and it'd fix for awhile.

Finally toes squished between that soft carpet and she fumbled like a baby deer out into the hallway.

"Just in time!" David sat a plate of traditional English breakfast down at the kitchen island.

"Ah David, you shouldn't have." Rubbing eyes.

"Had to. You're my guest. And..." He jiggled a coffee pot. "I got some strong bean juice for you." He began pouring it inside a mug, not even waiting for a single word.

The only response he needed was her motion. Instantly upon hearing that fresh brewing caffeine was here and ready for the drinking, she suddenly hauled lanky body to counter.

Like a zombie waking from grave.

"Mhh." She stuffed a fork full of eggs into her mouth. "Yeh."

"Hm?" David had made himself a plate too and sat on the other side on the island on an adjacent barstool.

"I'm back home." She chewed slowly, it was the bite, the taste that made her say that, taking a sip of the coffee she'd snuck some cream into, for it was a milky color by the time David had turned back around.

He smiled behind dark stubble. He knew it as a compliment, prodding a pork link onto the end of his fork.

She continued eating.

His breathing changed.

Heather knew he was stuffing his face. She took the moment. "So, what should we do today before the rail?"

"Nothing." Shallow.

"Huh?" She turned holding the coffee up to her lips, the kitchen a wee bit darkened, the vertical hanging blinds only at half mast.

He wasn't eating at all. Just staring. "We're taking a trip to the doctor." He laid the prodded pig back down, the fork making a metallic ding on the ceramic plate. "Have you seen yourself?" He stood.

"Hm?" She sipped. "Damn. I know I'm ugly, but you don't have to say it like that." Poking fun. She really wasn't that, and she knew it. Men actually found her to be quite agreeable, the point was was that she just couldn't find one she particularly cared for. Elbows rested back on the flattop. For a doctor, a field in which manners were usually supposed to be refined, she'd never quite adjusted all the way.

"Well that answers my question." He tapped her elbow. "Set the coffee down."

A confused furrow, lids narrowing. "What are you getting on at?" But she gave in and sat it down, memorizing it's exact position so she could come back to it after this momentary little drama was resolved.

David grabbed her forearm and hauled her over to the window, she noted a little bit hastily too. Snapping the blinds, the room was filled with bright morning light and London scenery. Cars zoomed on the busy street below, people walking.

She shielded her eyes. 'How unpleasant!' "David I..."

"Just look." He cut her off pointing.

She eyed at her clothing, it was sloppy, but she'd just rose.

Then.

She saw something.

"Wha?" The woman swung her whole right arm into the light, orbs focused on the back of her hand. 'The allergy!' "Ah shit!" She huffed turning her arm over and over. The only place was the back of the hand, where a few larger veins poked up because of her thin figure. "On the plane I had a slight reaction, you know I'm allergic to peanuts."

"Really? Because that looks like more than one allergy there Lazy Susan." He put a palm to her forehead. "Are you feeling heated at all?"

"No. No fever. I felt fine when I woke up." Her mind was rationalizing, scouring her frame. "No cough. I have no regular symptoms."

David let the hand fall. "No stuffy nose, wheezing?"

She looked back down to the hand she held up in the ungodly bright white outside light. "Strange."

"Hm?" They both gawked at it.

"It's not like times before. Usually I do have blotched areas, but also small little red marks all over, hives."

"Is it the peanuts then?"

"Uh... maybe not. Do you have any gauze?"

"Yeh." He rushed to grab some from the cabinet. Bringing over the bright white, clean material, she held her hand out and he bandaged it for her.

"Be careful with that. I'm thinking it might be fungal. Maybe..." A trained, educated mind scanned. "Uh ringworm?"

"Ringworm?!" He coughed out suddenly, it disturbed him! "Wha'd you do before boarding? Pet a million stray cats?"

"No! You don't get ringworm for petting an animal! You get it from when the infected animal scratches you." David looked to her displeased. "No! I haven't been around any animals." The gauze covered the whole hand and wrist, he secured it with a metal tooth fastener, it was tight and wrapped well she noted: "Good first aid."

Smirking.

"I'll get my rail ticket adjusted for a later time, maybe an evening departure, but I do want to get back to home. Pops isn't doing to great, and I want to get there as soon as I can."

Business men and women buggered up and down the street below.

"Don't worry. I'm feeling okay. So it must not be that fatal." She swallowed, her mouth craved that coffee, she felt no bumps inside her mouth. "Let's finish breakfast and go over there. I just. I don't know... by the sound of my dad, Pops might not last too much longer. This cold's got him down pretty bad."

* * *

 _Afternoon_

"Well, honestly..." The elder doctor, in his late 50's, white-bearded in a typical Scot style, as he was a Scot, she could tell. The accent. "I have no idea what it is here Missy." He pushed the lens away from his face, a strange google-eyed contraption that she thought they'd stopped using more than a century ago.

David looked up from reading a magazine in the corner. "Seriously? So it isn't fungal?"

"Such an odd shape. Hm." The doctor ran his fingers through thick facial hair in thought, old eyes shooting around the room.

Heather Casey wondered if that was what she'd look like in thirty years.

Minus a beard.

Endless burdens she figured had been put onto the shoulders of the man, yoked by his passion and his perseverance, very much like herself, but with the field experience that she had yet to gain. A family doctor like Prishna.

A path latent with thousands of vaccines to children, physicals for school activities and sport, general, practical medicine, and best of all, knowing when and certain to send a person to the hospital from clinic.

Heather guessed this man had probably seen it all. Bacterial. Influenza. Genetic. No end in sight was in mind as the doctor spoke back up.

"Well. It's not infected."

"That doesn't..." A magazine got tossed on a side table, uncaring.

"It's fine." Blue eyes raised to him to let it go. "Not infected is good. It's not even raised or bumpy."

The physician nodded. "Since it's not anything I can think of, I'm not prescribing any medicine. I wouldn't want to put you on a steroid and then somehow an adverse reaction occurs."

"I'm only allergic to peanuts. I swear by it. I get allergy tested every year just to make sure. It's not like I didn't have access to that for free." To his back.

"If you don't mind..." The man scribbled his office number down on a pad and ripped it off. "Can you give me a tone if something changes?"

"Sure."

"For now you're free to roam."

* * *

"It does look kind of patterned."

They were in the car. She was holding the hand up to the light. The gauze had long been tossed.

Heather knew she'd be getting put on 20-Questions about it as soon as she got home, whether bandaged or not bandaged. She loved her father, but he almost coddled her in a way, even into her adulthood, and something about that was irk-ish.

This was something she'd never say to him. He was a great dad! Always been there for her, always made the right decisions. Or at least, if they turned out not to be, he seemed to recover from the blow well.

Ebisu was steadfast, but clingy a bit.

She'd revolted a lot in college, in her early twenties because of it. She'd gone through a strange rebel-phase, and her father became the very pin-point figure in her mind that bothered her. It was the strongest in her mind then. That habit he had.

That was the pinnacle of it bothering her.

It was when she entered medical school after that, which eased it. It reverted back to that he just really 'tried his hardest to look after her'. She was an only child, his only child.

The only thing that she couldn't quite shake was the pack. She blew a small thin stream of smoke out of her mouth, the cigarette to it's middle, the soft warmth of the burning tobacco inside the paper she always found comforting.

"Do you ever wonder about your family sometimes?" It was off the wall.

"Yeh." He pulled into an underground garage. "What do you mean though? In what way?"

"There's so many things I really don't understand." Yet again she was feeling drowsy. The jet-lag was consuming her agile thought and lazying it into that plateau she really tried her hardest to steer from. She sucked deep, and let another stream flow out.

They cruised slow trying to find a spot.

"Each person in my family except me, I swear. I'm so honest. I can say that. It's not wrong of me to say that?"

"No you are. I can back that up." He looked around peripherally, the yellow beam lights of the garage over his head through the sunroof.

"Yeh. I sometimes feel I need to have someone else tell me that, because when I look at dad, Pops and Kei... I know that there are issues there. It's obvious. Right in front of my face, every time I go home. Whether it's with the tightened feeling I get from dad in regards to Kei or Charles. Kei being distant. I don't even know him. Did I ever tell you about that one night?"

"No." He was wheeling in, finally finding a space.

She floated back, deciding to tell her oldest high school friend through cigarette puffs: "It was the summer time. I was staying with Pops and grandma. It was when dad and Uncle Kei were both pulling close to forty. I was still a young girl. It was close to midnight, very late. I was awoken by the sound of a really loud cricket in my room; sleeping on a cot." She sighed. "I heard an odd voice. It wasn't dad, but I did realize, it was a voice similar. Uncle Kei. He was talking with Grandpa Bartley. I used to be so perplexed by Kei when I was younger, he scared me. It wasn't his appearance as much as it was his demeanor. There was a look in his eyes that I was never quite able to wrap my head around, like he was about to blurt something out, but couldn't. That night was the first time I heard the murmur of his pitch coming in full sentences, you know what I did?"

David had parked. Listening.

She answered herself. "I roused and got out of bed quietly, and I snuck across the spare room tip-toeing. I'd stayed there so many times, I knew where all the creaks in the floorboards were. I gently pushed the door open and slipped out, and made my way across the den and up the stairs. I laid on a few stairs with my head poking out of the door at the top, but only by just a bit."

"What were they saying?"

"I couldn't make out anything too much. A word here and there only. Something about 'duty' and 'consequence'. Of course I had no idea. I really just longed to hear Kei's voice. I had been so curious about it. But I wasn't agile enough in hearing and instead and the conversation stopped. Kei stormed out, his boots like a sailor's across the deck of a ship. Loud and clanking. I couldn't help but think that by trying to listen, that I was the one that was being intrusive."

"You were."

She sighed. He wasn't wrong. "Point is. It's always something like that. When I got a necklace of my grandma's, after her death, I was about to choke. I was so consumed with sadness. Grandpa handed it to me, and whispered in my ear as I looked in the heart crystal on it, that'd 'it'd protect me'. I am too honest, and I don't hide things. I have to be told I'm honest from time to time by another, because I know I never want to be like them. Because I don't want scars like that."

"I'm chalking the necklace stuff up to sadness. Your grandpa really loved your grandma. I bet that he just told you that so that you'd look after that necklace. Do you still have it?"

"Of course." She turned to him unsnapping her seat belt. Butting the filter out in the ashtray.

"See? Those words made you hang onto it, obviously that phrase stuck with you in your mind, because you still remember it, and because of that moment, you're still clinging onto the jewelry as a sentiment."

Heather chuckled. "You're right Dave." She punched his arm, and in return he let out a girly whine. "Maybe this trip is all just refreshing my memories, and some of the strange ones too."

"It's been awhile since you've been back. I think that's what every person does when they come back home after a long period. You search your mind. You think about things that have happened, people you've met, places you've been. Are you nervous at all to see them?"

"Mostly Pops, because of his health. I'm glad I'm getting it in."

They both got out of the car, slamming doors, boot unlatching with a familiar clank. He grabbed her luggage, she grabbed for two bags.

"Everything is gunna be fine." He shut the trunk down.

* * *

 _Evening_

Briar bushes of the English countryside passed the windows, stone walls erected by families lineages passed as well. Dividing markers between land owned, they also kept in the sheep and cows. The sun was falling below the horizon and the sky was familiar, each place she'd lived having an atmosphere all separate and unique from the next. Chicago was orange-skied at night. The city lights covering the stars, as most metropolis'.

But out here. The effervescent quality of fresh air.

During the winter, the cold seeped into the lungs so brisk it woke you with it's chill. The spring smelled like dirt, and like rain. The valleys all became green as one, like somehow Mother Nature divinely connected them and little bunnies began to pop their heads out of holes to nibble on crocus flowers both purple and yellow.

The only flower that her grandma was never able to plant inside. They were Spring's true gift, equally fragile and soft, living off of the dew that the early morning fog spread like apple butter over hot toast.

Reality was setting in.

She was home.

Truly.

And how she'd missed it.

As David had said, with distinct histories becoming alight, she was experiencing what it felt like, to be back where she was born. Heather always felt akin to it, no place in her mind would ever be this beautiful.

She'd spoke with people born in cities as well. Similarly they held a kindling to it. Brooklyn was 'their town.' Hong Kong was 'the only place they'd ever dream of raising a child'.

The wistfulness of humanity. Whimsical and sweet, in those feelings established. In those sentiments.

Heather pushed her glove, it slid up with soft touch. Somehow it looked like a beautiful symbol. One of imperfection and feathered edges. She touched it and it caused no pain. Like a birthmark given after the fact, only a light hue in color, like a henna tattoo not fully pressed into the skin.

A circular shape, much like the moon, followed underneath by a crescent. A celestial body waxing. Then another that ended right where her wrist began, it looked longer and more tribal in it's curve. Like a Maori hieroglyph.

Her mind was just trying to make some sense of it.

She felt like she was nodding of, another few hours to go. The trains weren't as fast as the ones in Japan, as she'd been to only once, so the rides always took a bit longer.

That necklace. Maybe she should wear it. As a last respects to her grandma. Her Pops had given it to her for a reason.

Another issue that scared her was that she didn't know the age of the piece. It looked like something from the early 1900's. Something passed down. What if she put it on? Something about that idea didn't quite set well. How is it normal to be walking around wearing a centuries old necklace?

She fished through her carry on. She'd transferred the necklace from luggage to her black tote back at David's flat.

That hard jewel scraped against her hand. 'There you are.' She pulled it out looking around. She wanted to be sure that nobody was paying attention. Nobody was. If she got this heirloom stolen...

The orange sunset bounced off the sparkling gem, making it cast a glowing shadow across her palm, so bloody looking, the deepest crimson.

'You'll protect me huh?'

She turned it over, same jewel cut on both sides, taking a sip of the wine she bought on the train, a blush, now turning a bit warm, unable to get over how tired she'd become. Drained.

She sighed, the air she blew out, she felt over her chin, go down on her neck. A strong exhale. Clipping the necklace around her neck, and snapping the old clasp shut behind her head, she gave it a quick, but gentle tug, to make sure it truly was locked.

'What a fear!'

If the thing wasn't fully latched and somehow fell off from being around her neck and was lost to the train station boarding platform, she'd about die.

It would be a fine necklace to poach she reckoned, but it wouldn't end well for her.

'Dad said grandma never wore it much. No wonder.'

It was heavy, sort of lerching her neck down. Maybe she'd wear it a few days and give it a solid go. It'd probably just make her back worse, by adding a neck problem too!

She flexed the collar of her trench up to cover her neck and stuffed the necklace inside of it to sort of 'lock it in it's rightful place', another precaution if it somehow came unlatched while being worn.

She chugged the rest of the blush wine in the glass, only three quick chugs and waved, an attendant briskly catered to the globed glass, smiling as he took it away.

Only a few more hours.

She'd be in The Square. The downtown of the village of Kirkwood. Not too far from Berkshire.

She'd probably be picked up by Great Aunt Jackie, how that elderly woman was still able to stay up at such a late hour, was completely beyond her, but there wasn't another option as her father needed a cane now, and Pops was in a wheelchair.

She'd probably drive her to the Abbey, North Abbey, the countryside outside Kirkwood, and there she would be greeted by a cold house, all lights out and everyone fast asleep.

Her father, jokingly tagged in her phone as Ebisu-sama, an old Japanese terminology used for ultimate respect, had been texting her.

 _We'll be asleep by the time you get to Pops. Not sure how long we'll be there, but at least a few weeks, then Kei will come back to watch him, then we can actually go back to our house._

 _If you need anything, I'll be in the spare. I'm sorry that there's only one spare in the main house, you're too big of a girl for cots these days!_

 _There's a key on the wall, the fob is a blue smiley face. That's the one for the guest house down the path._

 _Unlike last time, I've had the time to add some solar lights down along the hill there, and planted some autumn flowers._

 _My leg was feeling much better last Friday and I managed to at least do that._

'So, the guest house it is.'

So much like the house itself in design, the guest home sat far off into the hills, but still on the land of the Caseys. There was no chariot that would take her there, no cab. The walk was about a half a mile. Kei's childhood bedroom had been turned into an office.

Her father knew she didn't mind, the paved path, just wide enough for a car to come and go, was a place she'd play as a child. She almost had more memories with the guest house than the main.

She'd dance as a little girl along the path, picking little white flowers and spinning around gleefully. Of course, the house almost always was locked, but when it wasn't and her father or grandpa was down there doing a cleaning, it'd be open. She'd run around laughing through the wide doors.

It had more of an open floor plan than the main house, and the side doors all opened as one, like a giant folding apparatus. Apparently, that was something from Japanese culture that Grandma Rin wanted down there.

Pops spoiled her, and she got whatever she wanted. Much like Jarrod, David's partner.

'How unfair!' She used to think when she was a little girl with childlike thoughts, spinning around down the hill. How badly she wanted a cute boy to fall in love with her and treat her to amazing things such as that! To build an entire extra home for family visits, the architecture to her liking, and used by grandma as a place to 'get away'.

She'd come to realize in adult life, relationships were more built off of give and take. An equality.

Grandma always burned incense down in that house, cabin-like, bamboo floorboards, and it always smelled so fine. She always had these pretty jewels laying out.

There, grandma helped her remember the names of them, in that house fashioned like a 'traditional Japanese home' grandma had said.

There were opals, rose quartz, emeralds.

'This one's your's hun.' She had said. 'The sapphire. As brilliantly colored as those Irish eyes of yours.'

The birthstone of September.

Heather always recounted that in that moment she wanted to speak out of turn and exclaim to her elder, 'Grandma! My eyes are lighter blue than this stone!'

But she never did.

Funny. How people can remember things that they 'wanted' to say from so long ago, but never did.

How different an outcome would of been in some cases.

In the mid-day with grandma, it wouldn't of changed anything had she spoke out. Rin surely would of laughed, and even agreed with her that she was right! Even at that early of an age, Heather was already thinking about conversation.

How people communicated.

She remembered thinking whether it was important or not if she corrected grandma.

She chose not to, because it was disrespectful. Again, something her father instilled in her from a very early age.

Respect.

Even with Uncle Kei.

He may be 'disagreeable' as her father said, maybe not 'as', as her father also said, but no matter, her position with him has always been to greet with a friendly hello, and always attempt to include him.

The few times she'd seen and spoken to the man were so few, but every time, she'd always gotten geared up before hand by her dad.

'Now be calm and give him a pint of beer.' He'd say.

'Go over and serve him the soup.'

Her father also was extremely respectful to Kei, even though not talking, not friendly, Ebisu would hand him papers, napkins, glasses full of drink.

She sighed. Never did she understand.

So catering to such a cold force.

'Why?' She always asked herself.

It was a voice, her own voice, that floated in the back of her mind, her body numbed and her grandma's face alighted her vision.

Asleep.

* * *

"Ah." She opened the door to the guest house.

Everything in the main was just as dark as she'd thought. A swirling tremor went through her as she heard her father's snore. Unmistakable.

Yes. She was back.

Grabbing the fob with help from the flashlight on her smartphone, she slowly wheeled herself and all her items through the main house.

It had been a pain with Great Aunt Jackie. Boy.

That woman.

She still had on a full face of makeup and high heels.

How her grandmother made friends with the likes of someone so 'charismatic' (she only allowed her mind to choose a 'softer' term), she'd never understand, among all the other things she didn't understand.

Her life was colorful.

Every family had the black sheep, every family had the weird family friend, that was so close to the family that it was like you couldn't slice them off, every family had secrets, and every family had problems.

But Aunt Jackie, that woman took the cake, the whole cake, in her mouth.

She'd delighted in cruises in her elderly age, so unable to grasp that she really shouldn't be dressing the way she did.

Packing on that foundation like someone would spackling on a ceiling.

Not exactly the type of Modern Art she'd buy.

Or even pay to see.

But nevertheless, Jackie got her here.

Heather opened the door.

"Oh man." She wafted a scent of mildew. "What has happened to you?"

Obviously, with the leg problem and grandpa aging, the building was going a bit.

"Well." She spoke to herself, the rafters high, she could hear her voice echoing slightly off the it's loftiness. "I'm gunna clean you soon." She owed it to her dad and her grandfather. The guest house had been a place for her grandma really, and guests. But more importantly, the thought stuck with her of her last moments passing on the train. "I'll clean it up for you grandma."

She rolled her luggage along the hall and opened the main bedroom door. Just as she remembered it: Huge, with a giant king sized bed, proper Egyptian cotton linens, her grandfather passed up no expense.

She would of flicked on the light, but she could find her way around in the dark. She had it memorized, a map in her head. An old map, but as she scanned the hallway right and left, still a fresh one, as nothing had changed one bit.

Still the tender bamboo flooring, white walls, low table and simple kitchen, only by European standards were the beds. King. Large. Luscious.

Unrolling her pack, she quickly changed and shut and locked every inch of the house without turning on a single light.

It was a bad habit from living in the city.

Everything had to be locked.

It was common that thieves broke in and stole electronics. It was always electronics, because that was the 'get rich quick scheme'. Surely, had they a brain, and the time, as criminals had no balls these days, they'd take the time to go grab her necklace.

Weighty around her neck.

She laid in bed, it was a bit chilly. Pulling up the covers.

Why was it that every time she was in the guest house or in the main house she felt so secure?

She never had any care that a thief would break in. It was the country. That she gave it. Crime wasn't even acceptable in the country.

But there was just something about it.

She shifted, a pillow going between her legs to help adjust the shape of her spine.

This house. The main house.

She felt warmth and security wash over her, every time she was here. It'd suck her in.

And while she was in, visiting, staying, the feelings she received were welcoming and warm, but also protective.

At her childhood home, where her dad still lived, where her room as a youth was, she didn't feel that way.

There was just something about 'grandma and grandpa's house.'

Some unspoken comfort that her own childhood home could not provide.

She wrote it all off, as having loving memories here. It was a connection to her roots.

* * *

Soon she'd understand that this was actually not entirely...

Correct.

There were so many incorrect things about her life.

Things that she learned on her own, to just 'push aside', to 'not think on'.

That plateau that she always reached, so filled it was with questions, what if's, always dissolved, a back turned on it.

Information never gathered.

Deep anger she felt resided here, in her family's hearts, unresolved.

How alone it made her feel, as she could not relate.

Never could she relate.

So much success in being an individual.

But was it?

The struggle was that she didn't fit in with them.

None.

Why?

After all the acceptance. Cheers. Wishes of good luck and good cheer.

Why did she not believe it?

Sure she'd found success in walking her own path, her professors prided her on her individuality. One side.

But.

There was always the face of it, then there was always the feeling.

She fell asleep pushing it away off into the murky distance of a forest in her mind.

A bad dream she commonly had of chasing something.

The tall trees, blocking out even the moon. The bark scraping against her skin as she unknowing slammed into their great masses. So blind that she wasn't able to see them, she'd taste their brittle dust, shaking off from bark into her nose, her mouth. A choke.

Running.

Wet.

Feet sloshing. A madness this hell was. Black. Nothing but black. No distinction for light.

It was all feeling.

She'd fall, some dress she'd be wearing, slugged, massed with mud.

The feeling of being alone.

Unnerving.

Hysterical she'd cry.

Something drew her. It longed.

'SAVE ME! I CAN'T SEE!' She'd screech laying in a pool of water that smelled so off.

Nothing.

Silence. No noise.

Not even a wind rustling a branch.

All it was was touch. All the other senses gone.

Like they'd been broken or stolen away from here. Not even the sound of her voice as she knew she was screaming and crying so adamantly for someone to come.

"PLEASEEE! GOD!" She felt her voice box yell. "SOMEONE! HELP!"

Mindless she wandered, seeking something unattainable, a goal never reached. A strong desire, unknowing to her, never fulfilled.

But she'd run.

Until her mouth foamed and her eyes watered.

Falling to her feet in the same murk.

Like she'd gone a mile and only gained one inch.

And there she'd cry, face half out of water, breathing out of only one nostril, half submerged, until something pushed her.

She rose, and began to run.

Again and again.

Rest. Run. Cry.


	4. Chapter 4

4

"My God. What time is it?" A grumble.

'I've done nothing but sleep for three days.'

She felt her limbs, heavy like fresh laid bricks, the bamboo chilly as her arm brushed the bed railing, and it was morning, late morning. The sun already growing high in the sky as it filtered through the windows exactly the same way it had all these years, the position more to the left of the pane in the bedroom meant it was about eleven.

'So sluggish.'

"I never want t'fly again." Heather rubbed an eye with her palm, it was a terrible struggle to do just that. The wrist trembled as the fingers on the right hand finally hit the socket, then worked to smooth away a little bit of tension between her eyebrows, letting her hand fall to her lap, a deadweight.

"Hn?" Gawk, chin downward.

The symbology on it was clear now, they had to be symbols, had to be. She blinked a few times, glaring, focusing. It was browner, less red, edges not feathered but straight, and some other outlier marks were beginning to show around the main shapes, all congruent and deliberate, like the new formed swirls were aware themselves of the main markings?

Unlike a disease that just breaks out wherever it pleased to.

A sign of intellect?

Heather's eyes shot open and she flung the covers off, she stood so quick a head rush. Grabbing the back of the floral print chair by the bed to steady, she felt her head fuzz. The few freckles on her face, her complexion, turned pale for a second, then color resumed.

'What was that?!'

For a second, did she? Was she going to pass out?

She didn't and that was a positive, but it was the fact that the feeling came over her, even though it left just as quick!

Snatching her own right wrist and hauling it up to her face for a intense exam, her nose widened, breathing increased, the corner of her mouth momentarily tight.

"How could this be?!"

Alerted and on edge, the woman slowly managed to get across the room to peel her clothing off. Her breathing was unbearably harsh and she wheezed. The outfit she'd laid out the night before became so quickly, so hard to button. She put on instead a plain black V-neck tee and a pair of sweats, zipping up a hoodie, skipping lipstick for chapstick.

Droning to the left, down the hall to flicker on a bathroom light, the familiar white and green leafed wallpaper she used to pretend was a jungle didn't cause her much ease.

'I look like shit.' Maybe David was right. She pulled down her eyelids inspecting, no signs of wetness or puffiness, no weighted stress making her eyes feel like they were bulging out of her head. No pressure.

Tired, loss of breath, almost passing out the only symptoms.

No signs of blood sugar dropping. No shakes.

But tension. As she's brought her fingers to her face in bed, her arm wobbled like it was having a hard time using it's muscle.

Musculature shaking. Surely not Muscular Dystrophy. It's didn't run in her family.

"Who am I kidding?" The Scot doc said to call him if anything changed. She could only address the symptoms, she wasn't able to administer her own medicine, nor do tests that required machinery. Should couldn't give herself a cat scan or a biopsy, it had to be done by another. That was something she knew she couldn't do, draw blood/fluids. She wasn't great at it, and she always figured she'd leave that up to the nurses. She'd have a whole team of them working with her on the floors at London Children's.

Riffling around in the her carry on bag, she fished for that paper. Where'd she put it? She'd swore that she put it in there!

Why was it that even as a doctor she was so clumsy with things at times? She knew she wasn't perfect, but still.

Heather was getting aggravated.

"Where the hell is it?" She kept zipping and unzipping pockets, hands gliding unsteadily, fingers rummaging over different textures of items, hoping to slide across the yellow notepad paper's serrated edge.

She couldn't seem to place it. She didn't want to empty her entire bag, but she will later, after she ate. Her stomach gave a loud bark.

That's another thing she'd been doing a lot of lately too. Eating.

She added that to her mental check list.

A growl. She was a slave to it.

Walking out the front door of the guest house, the thing she did find was her smokes. Key to lock.

Then a sudden thought hit her, her arm muscle contracting with a weak waver to put a hand to her chest.

There it was. 'Good'.

Grandma's necklace, under her hoodie, safe and sound.

That was a sigh of relief. She lit up the cigarette with the tiny crown and shield logo close to the filter. She needed this right now. It was the only thing helping her 'keep it together'. Letting the symbols be touched by the light of the late morning as that hand rested on the wooden railing of the wrap-around porch, all bamboo as well, she just let the cigarette sit in her mouth, hanging from her lips, pursed between her upper and lower, to the right where it always sat.

Chicago was cold and windy almost all year because it sat on a lake. It was a habit of most people out on the town to learn to smoke a cigarette by not using hands. She stuffed her hands along her sides, elbows down, looking like she was giving herself a hug. With the chill of the morning still there, and the fog just a little as well, she could see the main house sitting off the left of the road up the hill through the haze, it was the size of a tiny monopoly piece.

She left her pack of cigarettes and lighter on the outside on the long seat of the swinging bench, it's chain hanging from the ceiling holding it up. She sucked in a long suck, held it in and then shot it out of her nose. As all cold Chicago'ers.

These ones at least didn't have the harsh chemicals in them. She was trying to play it safe with her choices, even with her bad habits.

Heather made her way out onto the path, all pebbles and dirt. It wasn't sloppy, but she'd slammed on some rain boots before hand just in case it was a mess.

Along the path, moreless dragging herself. Her legs walking unbarely jiggly, she decided to just slow it up. It'd take nearly thirty minutes to get up that damn hill!

'At this pace!'

It should only take about fifteen.

She plucked a few little white flowers, the ones from her childhood and put it behind her left ear, the flowers more like weeds, one stick of them containing multiple little fluffy buds. It was about time they stopped blooming, because the flowers her father planted were actually doing quite well, chrysanthemums, maroon and orange in color.

* * *

 _Three days ago_

Gilgamesh lounged on a large jutted flatrock inside the Grail. Whether the 'rock' was actually real or not was a question he'd always found himself asking. It could very well not be real, as it all was an invisible force, a matrix of magic that was once held by a singular object. He sneered. Not an uglier rock covered in sludge could be found than this one, but from up there, he had quite a view of the cut off body parts lazily drifting in the river of black liquid, which could also not be real.

But when it came time to be manifested, the Grail itself brought all of these into physical being, out from it's interior, magma poured and fires started; the Grail, even still as the Lesser, had the power to bring omnipresent items into a realistic world.

Such power.

The mages who created the device were quite skilled. It was sleepy afternoons (what he perceived to be afternoons, as there was no time reference inside the dirty, disgusting tool) that he pondered about such things, even when the scenery never changed, he made sure to keep his mind busy with thought as to not go utterly insane.

For he knew something was to happen soon. He was just awaiting it. The Grail emitted loud groaning whines, much like the oozing, viscous groans of a volcano getting ready to bust, and upon the dramatic change in character, Gilgamesh chose a good location to sit and watch the show that was about to start.

It had been awhile since he'd had some good theater.

"The choosing." He yawned.

The War in it's initial magics were being started. He watched symbols form in the water, and swirling eddies in it emitting smoky hazes of steam that seemed to 'stick' together in shapes.

Gilgamesh blinked. Observing. He was curious how the functions exactly worked. All mythical symbols, pre-picked and loaded from different tribes and cultures around the world, and it played some sort of game with itself as it matched pairs of three up to where they would align top to bottom symmetrically. Black smoke symbols whizzed all around him like large dragonflies, buzzing with energy, electric almost.

'Ah. Making the command seals.' He batted a few away from his face that were pestering him.

It was still dark, but clouds, like spirits, formed black silhouettes of faces. He began to watch as the Grail formed the eyes, noses and mouths of people, each face different from the next, from all different eccentricities and ethnic backgrounds he realized as well. It scanned through them one by one, like how a crystal ball would show a person's characteristics.

None he knew. Some older, some younger. Seas and seas of mages.

"Hm." He rested his chin on his wrist.

Sometimes it would morph a face back that it had previously been on, then switch again. He knew it was selected by the way that the cloud fizzled, it would shake almost silly. Childlike.

After seven were chosen, Gilgamesh began to close his eyes. But he realized, the hazy show hadn't ended.

An eighth was chosen. Then 9, to 12. Still going.

"My. You're choosing quite a bit of them this time aren't you?" He said, perplexed, raising. It gurgled at him.

Gilgamesh's mouth fell flat. He didn't understand. 'Were they backups if the first string masters failed?'

Did it chose that this soon? This early on? Couldn't any mage without symbols make a new pact with a still existing hero if their master was done, if they used all their seals and lost the hero?

Surely the same rules as far as that applied.

It chose 21 in all.

Three for each class of Heroic Spirits, he divided mathematically.

No. It was starting with 21 mages. It was absolute. He watched the symbols all fly to the different faces and spin, then fade.

'What's your plan?' He lowered his eyes.

No matter, this pleased him. Maybe the Grail never quite healed correctly, and Saber's wound somehow skewed it's magic. That he figured, probably was true.

Gilgamesh did notice distinction between some of them. The first round looked very skilled. The second round not as much. The third seems like ordinary people, like those that lacked purpose and direction that he wanted to put to an end.

It pleased him because it allowed for more of an option between masters. Who knows? All the middle to lower skilled Mages could get to summoning a Servant faster than the upper ranked ones. That'd make it a little more interesting than normal.

A bloodbath.

It'd make it a bloodbath.

He smiled. And he'd be watching from inside.

The sages chosen all would still have to find the artifacts. Draw the summoning circles, which all had very specific symbols that needed to be labored.

He wondered how many museum break-ins would take place on Earth in the next 48 hours?

Menacing, he laughed at his thought. 'How stupid! These wicked little creatures! The supposed strong and weak all battling for a position!'

"It'll mean nothing once I kill you all."

* * *

Heather tapped on the back porch door with a few knuckles, the same one she'd walked quietly all the way through the house and out of last night. She was completely out of breath.

She pushed her hair back behind an ear, hand off the wall, cigarette butt and flower long tossed along the path.

Familiar clicking.

The door opened.

"Heather!" Her dad instantly grabbed her and squeezed her in, she grunted with an 'OOF.'

His squeeze was strong, and that meant his health was good. She smiled.

But something was weird. He was almost 'too' laughy.

"Come in!"

She tugged down at her hoodie sleeve as he turned and walked back inside with a few thumps from his cane. She'd bring up the issue she had in quiet with her dad after breakfast. If grandpa was alert today, she didn't want him to hear, she didn't want him to be concerned, not at his age, not with him sick. Her stomach was screaming.

"'Bout time! It's almost one!"

Her mouth fell open. "ONE?!"

"Yeh. Did you sleep in or what?"

Heather's mind was scrambled. 'No way. It took me 2 hours to get up that hill? What was I doing? Crawling?'

No she wasn't.

She was walking slow albeit, but walking nevertheless. She cautiously slid around the high table watching her step, not a Japanese low, like at the guest house, and pulled out a chair for herself. She had to call that doctor!

Grandpa was pulled up to the table, his wheelchair shiny and his head was slumped a little to the right.

She swallowed, leaning in close and gave him a peck on the cheek. She whispered. "Grandpa. It's me."

Her dad turned to watch what she was doing with a saddened look on his face.

Grandpa smiled a distant smile, but not present smile as he stared into the television, his eyes never leaving it.

Heather wasn't satisfied, but still kissed his cheek lovingly again, trying hard to hold back her hurt expression. She just wished he was 'there' today, just for a little.

A roller-coaster. Nothing but an emotional ride since she'd left Chicago. Things were changing.

And with that dream last night, the recurring dream she'd had since she was little, it just added flame to her mind. But it never changed. It was always the same, and that was what maddened her about it. Nothing was ever different. Blackness, same trees, same muck. Unlike her present conscious life, which was being slowly filled with mystery.

The symbols on her hand, she had to find out what they were.

Boots.

She looked up. Eyes shot open wide, light swirling in them fast as her head suddenly turned.

Mouth fell.

Kei Casey stood there full length along the threshold to the kitchen from open upstairs she walked through last night. No wonder her dad was acting a little 'too conscientious'.

She knew her dad, and her and her dad were very easy-going. But something about his hug was tighter than normal, tense almost. This was why.

"Go ahead. Have a seat. Lunch is almost ready." Her dad turned from stirring something with a spoon. "Now that Heather's here, we can eat. She didn't make it to breakfast."

Kei looked at her dad and narrowed his eyes at him, and her dad just turned back.

Heather had breath caught in her chest as the man yanked out a chair and sat in it rather roughly. She looked only at him peripherally remaining quiet then looking away, with nothing to fidgit with, she was stuck unmoving with her hands in her lap. Her legs felt like the wanted to tap, but she didn't, feet didn't move, nor arms.

She was no longer thirty in that moment, but a patient ten year old physicked out of her wits, waiting for lunch.

She cleared her throat, she didn't know what to talk about. She didn't have coffee. Why was it that he made her so nervous? "So uh... I accepted that position in London."

"You already told me that." Ebisu answered.

She shut her mouth. 'Damn, he's right.' She searched, watching grandpa cough, but still staring off into the tele. His hunched figure sparked a bulb. "You know that necklace that grandma gave me?"

"Oh yeh!" He seemed giddy, it was fake. He was probably just as nervous as she was, and she knew it.

Kei shifted his eyes to her, like a stone statue only moving a peice of itself, the one peice that on a normal human, they say you could see into someone's soul with.

Her cheeks fire. Red hot. 'Why is he?' She tried so desperately to poke words through it, an attempt to calm her stage fright of the man.

"I brought it.. back with me. Along with my other stuff."

Kei's eyes never moved. He looked up and down the side's of her face.

Heather's mind raced. It was like he was checking her expression to see if she was lying, that was how intent of a scan.

"Uh." She jibbed out. "I figured maybe I'd..."

"What?" Dad put a bowl in front of her full of chicken noodle soup and buttered bread.

She jerked suddenly, coughing from the surprise. It scared the shit out of her, the feelings she was going through so intense she hadn't even realized her own father was that close.

"Oh sorry there!" His face was silly and his words awkward.

She settled as he sat another three, one for Kei next, then himself, then Pops. A family full of men and she was the only woman, ever since grandma passed. Never was she much of a girl as it was anyway. She didn't mind. She always took life by the bootstraps, and pursued a career intensely, and her mentality she knew would never pair with a cosmo-queen with perfectly manicured nails and a hot car.

"I'd take it to get it appraised."

"No." Kei flatly said. His response instant.

She looked at him. He put a spoon of soup in his mouth. She said nothing, now she was staring.

Her dad, pulled a chair and nervously bit. "If she wants Kei... it's hers." He stuck up for her.

Kei eyed him and took another bite, looking away.

She looked away too. She's gotten an eye-full. Kei had dark eyes, half Japanese, he sat tall at the table like he had pride. He'd gotten quite a few more gray hairs, and had grown some stubble. The man still seemed similar to before. Same general style. Dark boots. Black jean jacket. A simply gray shirt underneath, a long sleeved tee. Bags under his eyes. Lack of sleep? Or too much there of?

She reached for the glass of milk and took a full sip setting it down carefully, her muscles aching. She tried to play it off. She'd speak with dad later.

'Just let me make it through this meal.'

She wanted to run out of there as quickly as she could. As long as he was still here. If she could even run at all. What was he even doing here?

'Dad had said two weeks? Right?'

She took a sip of soup, her mouth chewing a noodle. Somehow she had the slight urge to just stick the whole bowl up to her face and consume it like a poor street urchin. What were these problems she was beginning to have?

They sat in silence and ate. Her dad fed grandpa, who chewed so slowly, and dabbed up after his leaks.

When she was done: "Can I have another bowl?"

"Still hungry?" Her dad said in that tone that still sounded a bit too high-pitched. He'd calmed some too that she could tell.

"I didn't get breakfast. Sorry about that."

He picked up her bowl and took it to the pot refilling it. Her mind. All it could hear was the sounds of the soup being ladled into the bowl. She had another urge to ask her dad if he could make sure to put a little more chicken in there this time, but she bit her tongue on it. But she had trouble.

She wanted it.

As soon as he sat it back down in front of her she picked the spoon back up and began eating, a bit more slowly as it was her second bowl, but devouring it all the same.

"If you want the breakfast still it's in the fridge. It's waffles. They might be okay to warm up later."

She stopped her spoon mid-air and her body did something strange.

The thought of waffles brought on a whole new realm of taste. The word gracing her ear she could actually taste the honey butter and molasses her dad caked on them, and without thinking she blurted leaving her face a messy red.

She, her own voice in her head: 'Waffles.'

"Can I have one now?"

Her dad just laughed. Then realized, 'Oh she's serious.'

He opened the fridge.

It wasn't until the snap of the sealed microwave door that she 'eep'ed', realizing that she'd not expected herself to just spit out thought into word so quickly. Shutting herself off, hoping to hit some reset button, she jammed a spoonful of chicken in her mouth.

Kei just finished one bowl of soup himself.

Heather was almost done with her second.

She'd eaten so fast! Like an adolescent boy.

Her dad was still chuckling as he sat the waffle down. It was a bit soggier than it should of been, had she got it in the morning it would of been crispier, and not re-heated.

Just the same.

She didn't care.

Kei was poured another bowl of soup. He was eating still also.

He cleared his throat as if ready to speak, her chew slowed a bit.

Nothing.

She resumed.

Plates being washed.

Munching.

Napkin.

The reporter talking about some parliamentary rights.

Pops watched, coughed.

A cough from Ebisu too.

Scrubbing.

Kei stretched a hand out and tugged down on his jacket.

She scratched her face lazily on her shoulder, face fully implanted into the quickly disappearing treat. She always used to think that the little holes filled with molasses reminded her of pools filled with liquid gold.

The visitor to the left placed a hand over right, relaxing.

Bowl was taken.

"When'd you get that?" Ebisu randomly spoke.

"Hm?" Heather asked from the last of the waffle, she slid the rest of the forked delight around in a lake of molasses on her plate.

No response back. She waited for explanation as to what.

Nothing.

She half turned her head mid-munch. A hair strand fell. Her right eye looking at Ebisu.

Who was not looking at her.

She turned back around curious.

Kei uncomfortably shifted.

Heather noticed. 'Weird.' That man was never that, he was never uncomfortable. He always seemed to have a commanding presence.

Peripheral glance.

She'd finished the food because thank God or she would of choked!

Her flashed glance shot away just as quick.

'WHAT?!' Mind instantly shooting to the mess on the back of her right hand.

Kei had been hiding something.

She caught the edge of it. Darkish. Her thumb on her right scrambled around inside her sleeve unnoticed as she attempted to conceal it better, her whole right hand was practically covered all the way down to her mid-fingers as it was, and the whole reason she'd chose that hoodie was because she knew it was over-sized. That comment made her mind race though back to herself and she couldn't help but get inside her own head.

"Seriously? Why a hand tattoo Kei?"

Kei grumbled and looked at Heather, then looked at Pops whom he realized wasn't 'hearing' except TV.

No response. Her dad sighed. Washing out a dirty bowl.

She was trying to calm it. 'I don't know him.' She breathed steady, pretending to watch the tube with her grandpa, leaning in a bit more closer to his wheel chair purposefully. 'I don't know his tastes. If he wants to tattoo himself...' She went on.

A sudden snort of exhaled air surprised her. "Where's the necklace?"

Everything in the room blurred under stark fear.

Did he?

Heather like a stone grinding on a wheel, slowly, rockily, dredged her head left, because... She knew the question was addressed to her.

Ice blue orbs met black.

She croaked out. "I'm wearing it."

Her dad shot a glance; a deadly one Kei's way. She seen enough to make out a flat-lipped line across the jaw. Displeased. She knew that face.

"Well." Her father loudly banged down a large jug on the counter full of liquid. It made a giant slosh sound inside it's container. "Who wants cider?"

"No!" Heather stood up, nearly tripping it was so sudden. Her chair squeaked across the hardwood.

Faint, she caught herself with left hand on table edge.

There it was again.

That come and go pass out feeling.

She closed her eyes, then opened them anxiously, glaring at Kei, glaring at dad.

Then she turned on her heel, she'd had enough feeling like a child!

"Heather!" Her dad exclaimed. She stopped. Why? She didn't know. Respect probably.

It was a sickeningly adolescent attempt, she knew, but she was ready to go. 'Dad just let me.' She mentally crossed swords with him.

"You can't leave." He gave off a bad laugh, the false one. "You just got up here to the house."

"I'm not leaving. I'm..." She searched. "I'm just gunna go lay on the couch." Bland.

There was no way that she was going to be in this room any longer with the man. His voice was too much and his stares were icicles. She was no child, because every time she was around him she always found herself fumbling and reverting back to a kid-like mentality, and that bothered her.

For the first time, in a long time, she told a half lie. And she wasn't happy about it.

"Jet-lag."

She slowly walked out of the kitchen as normal as possible, and once out of view, she quickly allowed herself to start breathing hard again and wincing in the most absolute, horrible muscle spasms.

Heather got to the couch and sat, slumping over on her side, making sure the hand was fully covered and the hoodie zipped all the way up to her neck. She pulled the blanket over her from the back of the couch, a plush one that you can find at any store these days.

'I can't tell dad anything with Kei being here!' Kei had no business knowing her medical profile. She wanted to confide in the person she could rely on the most: her father.

Sure, Kei and him had bad blood, but Kei was not 'her family' he was not 'her friend'. He wasn't even around! Ever!

What right did he have asking her a question about the necklace that her grandma rightfully gave to her?

'Last week you wouldn't of said that.' Her own thought in her head spoke to her. Madly, she forced a thought back. 'Right. I wouldn't have!'

She was seething with anger, but felt that familiar hazing of muscles getting numb in her thighs to fall asleep. Since when was she so protective over it? She'd done nothing but throw it into the bottom of a drawer before!

'Damn it! Something's not right.'

She began to realize her pulse was slowing.

Why did she suddenly care? She'd been so afraid to wear it, and now that she is, did that make a difference?

'It'll always protect me.' Pops.

Top lid and bottom lid tapped.

No noise from the kitchen.

She heard birds outside. Cute little chirps.

'Ah?' One flitted around, landing on railing outside. Through the window she seen. It was the prettiest little bird. A finch.

Should be going to roost.

Winter's almost here.

'It's mine.' She breathed. Eyes closing. 'It's always been...'

A body silent.

'mine.'

Asleep.

* * *

When she woke it was later, much later. Already dark.

"Hey sleepy." Her dad was in her face, sitting on the coffee table aside her relaxed form on the couch.

"Hn?" She mumbled, she felt the blanket stir around.

"It's eight. That plane ride must of killed you hm?" He sat down on the edge of the couch now, and she managed to scoot just a bit to make a space for him to sit by her side.

"Mm." She didn't respond because what almost popped out of her mouth was against what'd she'd said in the kitchen earlier. She'd lied, white-lied, and she felt bad about it. Her dad never lied to her about things, he was always upfront with her. If it just wasn't for Kei, she wouldn't of had to, but she felt like somehow she needed to protect herself from his ever-lingering glare on her.

Ebisu took that as a 'yes' response and continued on. "You should get on down to the house." He put a hand up to her forehead like a mother. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeh." Another lie. It just popped out. 'NO!' Her mind screamed. Her eyes shot open at her own ill-intent. 'What the hell?' She stirred and sat up making sure to conceal her wincing. Something was wrong. Hadn't her plan been to call that doctor? She did a quick calculation on her head. The office wasn't open right now, but she could call it and leave voicemail, then wait to hear from the Scot tomorrow.

Would that be less worrisome to her father than outright telling him? Would it be better if she got a different opinion before she told him? Was Kei still here? She wouldn't take the chance.

God she was tired. So tired.

"Okay."

"It's eight. I already put grandpa in bed."

She nodded. "Sorry. I'm just tired."

He squeezed her up in a hug. "I'm just glad you're home."

She squeezed back the best she could, holding back a scream. It hurt so bad to use her muscles for anything. Behind his head her face scrunched in absolute pain until he released.

Ebisu stood and began walking in the other room, only to stop and turn at the kitchen door, a soft expression with high-cheek bones smiled and winked to her before going down the hall to the spare bedroom there. "I know you're overexerted, just rest for now. Don't worry about it. Go sleep. We can talk tomorrow. You know I love you."

"You know I love you too." She smirked in the darkness as the light shut out. She was damn near determined to just fall asleep right there, but what lifted her at this point was her own power of will. To find that number, she didn't even bring her phone up to the main house. It was not smart of her.

She'd been just so hungry. Again her stomach was grumbly as it was.

With her dad. She never understood. He said 'I love you.', but the man also said sometimes, 'You know I love you.' Like he just wanted her to ponder over it somehow like saying a simple 'I love you.' wasn't enough.

* * *

She clamored down that hill, falling multiple times. The first time, she fell flat into the middle of the road, and by the time she picked herself up, she'd made a good big dirt spot all down her right side, she swore it was like she was drunk. The dirt was down her hoodie, sweats.

Beginning to see double, and having tunnel vision, she just tired so hard to make it down.

Step by step.

Solar light by solar light.

25 to get down the hill, like counting them would help her along, find her way like a lost sheep.

Finally she slammed up against the door to the guest house, keys crunching mercilessly into a lock, and rather than stepping through the threshold, she collapsed right in the doorway onto the bamboo floor. And it hurt. The fall wasn't something where she'd caught herself mid-way on the way down with a hand, as most people did. It was a slam, like a dead body.

Arms out. Body half in, half out. She felt asleep but knew she wasn't. Muscles in terror. Her legs kind of cold as the sweats had rode up and one of her boots she realized wasn't there anymore. Where'd she lose it? When she'd fallen in the road? Had she stumbled all the way back down with only one boot?

Surely she would of felt the dirt beneath her feet, the pebbles crunching between her toes. It would of been cold, dewey.

Was she losing her since of 'feeling'?

Something moved her lifeless form. All she could feel distinctly was the bamboo floor so smooth moving against her stomach, under her. Nothing else.

Was something happening?

Something tight around her wrist. Her mind jolted. 'Dragged!'

Her mind told her body to be quick and instead of kicking, it simply plunked her calve over with a painful mewl from her mouth. Other boot gone.

Distant voice.

Body hauled somewhere soft.

Crunching.

Something forced her to open her eyes. It was a blur, a rainy windshield to see through. She realized: 'yellow paper'.

She haphazardly lunged at it and she unsuccessfully grabbed it, it was pulled back.

"Give." It was the only word she could muster. Her jaw was so painful, her facial muscles throbbing in pain from hitting the floor. It was like she'd been punched.

"No."

She realized she was sitting up on the couch at the guest house. It was completely dark, slowly becoming a lifeless vegetable and there was nothing she was able to do.

"Doctor." She muttered.

"Hn. No." The voice uttered out, it was lost, but somehow something warm was holding her upright, and she'd felt her body try to dive into the couch on it's own, her head rolling around, but whatever was holding it up stopped that.

"I'm sick." She mumbled.

It responded, but a bit late this time. "No doctor. Don't contact him."

"YES!" A sudden scream out of her. She was beginning to realize, someone was there. it wasn't her thoughts. A hand over her mouth as she growled into it. She saw the paper get sat down, out of view, like an item lost in a fog.

"No." It simply said. "You will not call him."

"How do you..." She moaned out to the voice taunting her under the hand that moved away. "know I haven't..." She sucked air and realized it was incredibly hard to breath, wheezing. "already?"

"Because I checked your phone."

"Wha?" Was all she blurted. She winced hard. And began coughing and crying out as the coughs were causing her whole respiratory to ache. She felt offended. She forced herself to open her eyes, blinking rapidly. From blackness a face just enough made out. 'KEI!' A mind went frenzy, instantly scared and she felt him yank up on her hoodie sleeve. "NO!" She yelled out, in her inactive and compromising state trying desperately to conceal her marks.

"So. It's true."

"Let me alone!" She shouted.

She noticed too, there was no shirt. Her eyes were starting to roll back into her head. He had on no shirt.

"Just let me do this."

"Wh.." She mumbled. "No!" Meek, her mind scavenging the bottom of the bowl. The gutter.

She heard his voice cut in and out. She made out the words 'pain' and 'back'.

She felt a hand go up under her shirt. The hoodie unzipped. Like a piece of drunk trash she was maneuvered around with swiftness and before long she was broke out into a sweat so bad and hot that she couldn't feel anything.

"No gunna let you do it."

She heard a mumble through the fog that sounded like a 'you will'.

A whole heavy weight laid across her and she felt a cold but long object on her left arm. Big.

"Ah... doing?!" She shouted again as the hand clasped around her mouth with some force this time and she screamed so hard and it hurt so bad that it caused her to cry profusely. She couldn't breath with the man's weight on her.

She kept hearing a drone over and over again. He was talking, but so low.

Nothing was happening.

He suddenly just stopped moving. And from trying to keep her still, their bare chests, (her shirt not all the way off but hoisted), she could feel a buzz.

It was a weird, unfamiliar buzz.

That was when everything went dark, and when she closed her eyes she dreamt of nothing but glowing lines of blue running down three streams inside her mind, like a code rolling over her eyes like a river, a code so old, made of symbols impossible to read, that she couldn't understand.

Different from the dream she still had where she was running, in blackness. This was just lights. As if the sky was running scripts, printing. Like a scanner with an endless, seamless, unstopping flow of digits and lines.


	5. Chapter 5

5

Heather Casey awoke. Blue eyes flitting open, lashes fluffing delicately against her upper cheek. She realized, her body was so relaxed.

She remembered a trip she took when she was little to the sea to the south that divided England and the rest of Europe.

She played in it all day, much different than a typical 'as advertised' white sand beach, it was a darker, stormy, rocky as well, and picking up snail shells and turning over little slate stones to find hermit crabs, her father kept hollering to 'leave 'em alone!'. Coming back to the hotel that late afternoon after playing in the cold ocean water, she remembered how chilly she was, wrapped in a warm towel she kept sneezing, tasting the salt on her lips, but the thing she remembered the most was how the sea and it's waves had made her body feel.

As an adult, studying medicine, she came to realize that the reason she still felt the 'waves' of the ocean rolling across her body making it feel 'wavy' was because the ocean's waves threw off the natural equilibrium that a body possessed.

That was what was going on now.

She felt like she's just stepped out of the ocean after swimming in it for hours. Her center rocked back and forth, it was comforting, the motion, but it was also disturbing, so heavy it almost made her ill to sit up, like sea-sickness from a fishing boat.

"Awake?"

She panicked. Her body almost fell completely off the couch!

The voice was so stark and brash against the emptiness around her. Her ears were ringing, and through that... she heard the voice. "KEI!" Shouting loud, hands over ears as the ringing and voice combination caused a quick pain to shoot across her forehead.

Boots clubbed in steady rhythm, the opposite end of the long couch sank. His left arm over the back end of it, drinking a mixed drink.

Why'd he think he could just come over and plunk down like he had no care in the world?!

Enraged. "What'd you do?!" She screeched. She had every right to be upset! The last thing she remembered was body heat, stomach on stomach touching. She felt about to throw up. "ANSWER ME! What'd you DO?!"

"Now now. You just got back in country, only one day here and you can't keep that Irish spirit calm?" He smirked, that she could see in the dark, uncharacteristic, clinking of ice as he sipped. Whiskey. She could smell it.

"Answer me." She said gruff. Shivers. Surely not. Surely not! He wouldn't of did that? Would he? Was he deranged? Doing that to his niece? "Did you..."

"No. It's not what you're thinking."

She felt no ease of tension. She dropped her hands. His voice prickly. How could she believe him? "Don't presume to talk to me like you know me." She grinded through her teeth. At least he had a shirt back on.

"Ah. But I do." Ice clink again in the dark. The one thing that made them able to make each other's forms out was the uneven cloud cover revealing the moon off and on outside the open windows.

She hushed. No he didn't! He had no idea. "Explain." She spit, stomach grumbling also.

"Still hungry aren't you?" Heather heard crunching, crushing of a paper product, a packaging of some sort, and in the darkness of the house something smacked her on her on the side of right arm. Grabbing it and holding it up too her face squinting, she realized it was a granola bar or something.

"Nice catch." He mumbled.

She dropped her jaw. "What?" Flat. Was he teasing her? A change from the normal brooding moody man, with a constant rain cloud over him, shading his whole appearance.

As monotone of a response as it was, she realized, yes, it was him... being 'joking'.

She felt distinctly off. A man whom she'd had zero relationship with was suddenly acting like they'd known each other, like he'd known her, like he 'cared'.

"Well. Eat it." Clink.

She didn't want to. She just stared at it in her hand, it's faint rectangular outline so indistinct at the hour. But she felt if she didn't obey, what would he do?

With a large sigh, she ripped the side of the package open with her right canine and took a bite, huffing through it. Secretly, she'd run her fingers all around the edge of it checking for holes before she opened it. One could never be too careful.

It was so satisfying.

She instantly knew it was a powerbar, packed with protein and carbs, the texture of them were always a little different than regular fruit and nut bars or cereal bars. It was also coated in a thick layer of chocolate. She ate it faster than she expected, like her mouth was far hungrier than her head and she nearly bit her finger as she slammed in the last piece. She also had the urge to ask him where he bought it, as it was the best active bar she'd ever had, but she shut up, refusing to make her own thought word.

She was still mad.

He chuckled, it was all grit like his character, and he mumbled something in Japanese to himself and then spoke: "That was how I was."

Silence. Nothing but her crumbling the packaging and setting it on the glass coffee table next to the couch. He slammed his boots up on it.

She sneered. Did he have no manners?

He just lolled on. "You were having a lot of muscle pain weren't you?"

Come to think of it. 'Yeh I was.' Her thoughts betrayed her and so did her huff. But he was right, and he knew? Perhaps he was more finer tuned into what she was hiding from him, from everyone, until she could contact that doctor, than she had thought. "How'd you know?"

"If you falling through the door wasn't a give away." He said flat. "You almost passed out after eating."

She wasn't used to this. The voice of Kei making sentences. Unfamiliar. He pointed and she looked. Across the room she could see her polka dot rain boots in the corner. "You also lost both your shoes." Sip.

"I'm tired of this mysterious bullshit. I'm not going to ask again. What the hell did you do?" She crossed her arms. No hiding on the stairs like a little girl anymore. She wanted answers.

A chuckle at her. "To the point. That's a good attribute." He stood and walked to the kitchen to fill his glass, and put in new ice as well. He was quiet an incredibly long time, muttering, like he was deciding exactly how to say some things. He came back and sat closer on the couch, but still fairly far away. He also sat a glass of whiskey mixed with sour down by her on the rocks, not getting close, but kind of just 'scooting' it along to her, as he returned to his original relaxed position.

'So, that's what he'd been doing.' She just looked at it. "I don't drink hard alcohol." The waving in her body was subsiding finally and she was starting to feel normal again.

"You'll need it after I say what you need to hear."

She just left it. There was no way to test it for drugs.

"I opened your circuitry." He took a giant swig.

Like he was nervous she noted.

"What?" Arms crossed.

"It's located in your nerves, mostly the spinal cord."

He was kind of speaking her lingo. "Circuitry? Nerves have design." She paused. "You're born with a nervous system. There is no opening or closing."

"For you. Yes there is." He took another major drink. "You seen it. Behind your eyes."

She paused and breathed in deep. Remembering. Yes. The blue. He was right, and she knew it. She really knew it. Would she go forward to acknowledge it, was it feasible that that actually...?

"So." Approaching cautiously... "It wasn't a dream?"

"No." He shifted, he tugged on his jacket sleeves. "I turned something on that I wasn't supposed to."

Silence.

He took the cue. "I'm sure you've been plagued your whole life with what's happened between your father and I."

"Hn." Bass tone. He had hit a nerve. Plagued was hardly the term. It was something, it was more than something. It consumed her thoughts, her mind would always hit that plateau that she'd try to steer herself from. Steer herself from asking questions, that she knew she couldn't answer, that wouldn't be answered elsewhere. That useless mesa. She could feel the tension, the way her father acted, all fake. She knew something was there that wasn't being spoken about.

As a child, Kei was just a looming shadow somewhere in the back of her mind. She used to think that maybe he hated them. Maybe that he hated her. But with the recent events of him finally subsiding with her father to be able to work something out to take care of Pops, she felt a little more akin.

"If men can settle differences enough so that they can come together to care for an elder, then I owe you my ear. At least for now." With that, she grabbed the tumbler in front of her. "T'hell with it." She took a large glug. If it was something bad, something about her father that was going to come to the surface, something that she might not like, something she might not agree with, now was the perfect time to prepare herself, with the thickly poured whiskey inside of an etched glass. Cold and made a little to strong.

Kei's jaw dropped, a breath.

Ice clinked as she moved to sit up elbows on knees.

He knew that she was allowing herself to be open to him. He instantly knew her deep care for her grandpa, his father. Perhaps, she did in fact see and was able to read into him a little bit also. His mind blurted out what he was thinking in that moment. "I assure you, I'm an honest person."

Heather cleared her throat knowing that sentence all too well. The sentence she constantly has to ask herself or tell herself because of what was going on around her with her uncle and dad, something she made sure to have David remind her of, so that she could be reminded, she wasn't like them. She wasn't them. Never would she be. She felt bad white-lying. She'd never be a liar. She'd never hide things. She hoped he at least was being truthful about his honesty.

'Deja vu.' She drank.

"Ebisu and I used to be similar, we're twins. But we divided when we were eight. I knew it as soon as I accepted the family history, the lineage." He cleared his throat. "I was supposed to have this conversation with you when you were eight."

"Well. Have it with me now." Why not? Why didn't that happen?

In the dark of the early morning, the rashness of voice became softer, as if he was trying to not scare her. He proceeded slow at first. "In our family, in these families like ours, when you're eight, we get a choice. Usually only one is chosen, but your Grandma Rin and Pops let us decide, it was against the usual. Usually the parents choose the successor to the..." He sipped, lower toned. "mageworks."

"Mageworks." She mumbled low. What was he talking about? She told him she'd lend an ear. But 'mage'? It had gotten preposterous too quick! "So... what..."

"What is that?"

"Mhm." She sipped in the darkness with him. Thanking that she had grabbed the whiskey sour. This was a ride. It was just getting more mysterious and weird as it went along.

"In the plainest sense... we're wizards."

"Okay." She sat her glass down and stood, she had a bit of a headache still, but everything was much better. "This is stupid. Stop beating around the bush."

"When'd you start getting back pain?"

She shot a glare into the dark, hands in pockets. How'd he even know? "None of your business."

Ignored. "They say that the heir that's supposed to inherit the crest, if one isn't chosen that is, if it doesn't get applied to someone, that person will start to show symptoms of the error. One of those issues is a back pain that lingers, located mostly around the spinal cord."

Heather breathed in. It was like... he knew. Was he lying?

"That's because that's where the circuitry originates, and if left untapped, it grows sore from stagnancy." He sighed deeply, and turned abruptly on the couch, he held his glass out, and seemingly something sparked out of a finger, a small tiny blue fire, like a little lighter and with it it glowed like a nightlight inside his glass and as his index came over the top, she seen.

Oh did she see.

Heather Casey's ice blue orbs widened the deepest she'd ever had. As if she wanted to take in all the light, to make her eyes panoramic, enormous, to absorb every ounce of everything she was watching. Frozen.

The ice cubes in the glass suddenly began to move on their own. Slow, a small whirlpool, slow in growth developed into a small glowing tornado inside his glass. A whisper: "Fluid manipulation."

Breath. Heavy. Lungs unable to breathe. Was it?

"A Casey magic." Kei's black gaze met her face. He scanned her reaction, and what he caught wasn't what he expected. He expected to see some form of tears, she was Ebisu's child, she'd known nothing of a sage, expected that she would turn and learch away, but inside she, frozen, with eyes peeled, studied, taking in full scene. He knew. She was startled, afraid, but they way her eyes jerked ever so slightly as the whiskey moved around with the cubes in the whirlpool, she was rationalizing, her lungs stopped, heart in throat, mouth set in a dropped motion, awe-struck.

Kei let the mana go and it went out, motion stopped.

Instantly, she blinked, watching the light and motion fizzle it's way out. Coming to. Grabbing the tumbler back up and chugged it all. "God damnit." She couldn't believe this! HOW IS THIS RATIONAL!? She couldn't understand it, why was she was doing this, watching, listening. "I'm going out. I need a smoke." Stricken.

It meant her father... wasn't?

"Fine." He stood and walked to the kitchen area first to refill his glass, watching her hurriedly rush out the door, literally run, slamming the screen behind her and rushed to snap a light, shaking profusely as the light unsteadily lit.

'Good.' No push back, unlike her father, Ebisu, who always had a comment about it whenever she lit one up around him. Yeh, she knew it was bad, but this message, and that, that! That! To her... it was getting, so, too real, that fire! Was it a fire? It was real! She seen. SEEN.

And the message, it was being delivered so normal, casual, like it's just everyday news, the BBC channel in England, a broadcast.

She snapped the lighter off and on in nervousness. Light. Light. Light.

Soon her uncle came. He left the screen closed behind him. "I know the folding doors open, but it's too late, there's bugs."

"What time is it?" She couldn't believe she was just talking to him like normal. She wanted answers that was why!

Light. Snap. Snap. Snap.

Heather wanted to reach over, jump, and wring the man's neck furiously, and scream at him: 'Tell me everything! TELL ME NOW!' But she knew that wasn't how conversation worked. Earlier she's gotten worked up and loud because she thought maybe he'd done something awful. But, that light. Witnessing. He was... HE WAS TELLING THE TRUTH.

As he'd said.

"'Bout 4 in the morning."

Heather pulled the lit stick out of her mouth with a puff. "How long was I... out?" She shook, spine twitched. Her cigarette was calming her down, a soothing feeling was starting to come, as all tobacco does to the body. It was putting her in a more relaxed state to receive this crazy information. She held out an extra. "Do you?"

"Mn. Four hours or so." Kei took it, noticing her palm shaking, and pulled a lighter out of his pocket.

She watched it snap open, a classic made flint stricker with a logo on the rectangular container, a Japanese Geisha design. The flame revealed his face, he looked for a second at her face as he was lighting it and their eyes met.

Both looked away as it went out and the smoke shot out of his face, that big first billow.

They stood aside each other. Smoking. No lights. Nothing but the moon showing a bit behind the clouds.

It was the first time in her life, that moment, that she looked at her uncle like he was a real person. As her eyes met those orbs, she'd sunk into them, into the depths of blackness, and they moved to look at her with a rather peaceful expression. He seemed pleased, but also on edge, but it was more so the fact that he even had expression in that proud face of his, so unsmiling and void of emotion over the years, it caused something in her to rise that wanted to listen. It craved as she seen distinct change written on him.

And that light! She was ears, furiously shaking, scared head to toe. A calm shake.

But so unlike Kei expected, instead she still stood there... wanting. She didn't run, she didn't scream. He knew she was frightened. But it was a healthy mix of both him and his brother's reactions. Somewhere in the middle of them. "The crest of a mage family always passes." He sipped, his short hair cut unmoving as the breeze blew by. "You're the only heir to the Casey's."

She was entertaining it.

"The back and muscle pain has subsided because the crest application opens your circuits."

"Application?" She took a sip. Shivers. She was a heir? Then what'd he mean, it was something that 'he wasn't supposed to do?'

He suddenly took his jacket off, it was quick and he laid it over the railing, and in the darkness she seen clearer now that he had on a different shirt, a tee shirt this time, not a long sleeve. He pushed his short sleeve up to his shoulder.

Heather gawked, realizing he was in much better shape than her father. He actually had some muscle mass to him, and as twins, as adults, they didn't look much like one another anymore.

His lighter snapped alight.

Her eyes widened. In full view of the lighter, a symbol on his upper arm, much like a scar, was carved into his skin on the outside of his arm, a crest of raised scarred tissue. Like someone had branded a cow, it was dark and obvious, as the tissue was scarred to the point that as a doctor, she recognized it as a decades old healed 3rd degree burn.

Now. She was silent. Her head flipping in response as she was speechless. A fleshy brand, a burn that was so intricate that it almost looked fake.

"It's the Awen of the Casey's and circuit symbols of Tohsaka. The new crest formed."

"Grandma's family?"

"Yes, the circuitry you see in this, these tiny symbols of circles and lines... that's the Tohsaka lineage. Your grandma was a mage and Pops."

"Wizards?" She just was spitting words through puffs. She just... couldn't. But... could. It was unfolding.

"Hn." He pulled his sleeve down, sucking deep on his cigarette half gone. "As am I. I was 1st generation of new Casey's from the two houses marriage. It hurt like hell when I received it. I was the first one to. I'm surprised the transplantation didn't hurt you. You were 2nd gen, but it should of hurt more than passing out for four hours."

"How'd it hurt?"

"I was incapacitated for almost a month when I was eight. It was this dream state. I felt alive, and yet so un-alive."

"A coma?"

"Except..." He sucked. "I was awake and I could see. I just... had no response. My brain decided it wouldn't work."

"So more less... like you'd had a stroke?"

"I guess." He sipped on his drink. "But one day it lifted, but things weren't the same. I was a mage and your brother and I's childhood was officially over, and I became as you are now. I craved nothing but protein and sugar. I learned later in life, that that happened because my body was overwhelmed and overburdened with the circuitry being usable. The body craves weird things. That will also pass as you become accustomed to the mana and it's power."

She hurriedly unzipped her hoodie and it fell to the ground.

Kei knew what she was doing. He picked it up as a courtesy and laid it over the railing.

Heather felt panic rushing across her body, cigarette held in lips, her hands worked and Kei snapped the lighter again closer to her, and faintly...

Yes.

There.

On her upper left arm.

The Tohsaka-Casey Awen.

A burn. Red and nasty.

Like a deep molded scar tissue across her skin. Grotesque and beautiful in symbol all the same. Same symbol as her uncle.

She was believing. Smoke left her nose. Fingers carefully came up to touch it. Shaking, her fingertips softly brushed.

"Painless." She breathed out the left side of her mouth.

"I bet why... you have Gareth blood. Your mother's family. They're also mages."

"Who in it? Who's..." She breathed in deep. "the mage?"

"Charles."

Her head shot up from the "Uncle Charles...?" It was like... she knew that already?

Wheels turned inside of a head.

Her father was so strange about her going to visit her mother's family, it was always odd. Maybe this was why she had little to no relationship with them? Did he not want her visiting them for that reason? Things were unlocking, and information she craved answers for for years was coming to the surface and things were slowly beginning to make a hell of a lot of sense. Her father... did he not?

"Yes. And his son, your cousin Owen."

"So Lucy, she decided she didn't want it?"

"Right. With different ages of kids... it gets a little bit harder to decide which one it will be, but the Gareth's... they're open about the mageworks and they all know about it and talk with each other about it, that makes it a little easier." He held out a beautiful red crystal, very large and flat that he must of had in his right jean pocket. "I burnt the crest on you with this. It's called a Marker Stone."

Held up in the light of the moon. She instantly recognized it was the same composite material as her grandma's necklace, her hand raced up to her neck and there it was. A sigh came out of her mouth of relief.

Kei smirked. He knew she knew.

"The jewels?"

"That's the Tohsakas. You're wearing a piece of magic around your neck."

"Grandma." She touched the necklace again with her fingertips, it's lump obvious under her shirt. So those jewels, all lined up and glittering in the daylight, pretty and shining.

Rin Tohsaka. Those rocks. These precious jewels. They were her prizes. But not just her precious tokens.

Her magic.

"So why... me then?" She gently pressed into the burned tissue, flabbergasted that there was no pain. "Why not your...?"

"I don't have kids." He looked grim. "I can't."

He didn't seem choked up about it, but that had hit a deep vein in him that she could tell held some pain. She could imagine as a young man that probably wasn't a big deal, but as he got older, naturally it was usual to desire a family and that was just something he couldn't have.

"I have Klinefelter's."

She immediately knew. A genetic gene disorder, it wasn't common, but common enough. It was one of the first genetic chromosomal disorders she studied in biology as a college student before even entering medical school. She'd never actually met a person that had the disorder, but never could a person tell as it was outwardly effecting in anyway.

"I'm sorry." It was flat-ish the response, but she did 'feel' in that. She'd never have nieces or nephews unless he adopted, but that was something he hadn't done either. She wondered why? Adoption was always an option. Maybe it wasn't the same, and the crest couldn't be passed to an outsider whom didn't share their blood?

"So. I'm the only one."

"The only one Heather."

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

He'd used her name.

For the first time. She heard it on his lips.

"It's not easy. None of it is." Words hit her to the bone.

"So what's this shit on my hand?"

He came over closer to her.

She was hesitant at first, but as he let his cigarette sit on his lips like hers, and he held out his right hand in the moonlight, stretching it next to hers within those few steps she seen...

Symbols.

Her's a swirled circle, half moon, then a tribal.

His a cross, a U shape, and then a vine.

Both looked up into each other's faces; her consumed with him speaking, his change in demeanor, presence, him pleased by her reactions.

But something else was there in their eyes...

An unspeakable connection.

Whatever it was.

A familial connection. A magical connection.

Yes.

But something else.

"No matter what happens." Uncle Kei spoke in a knowing voice, gulping deeply, smoke coming out of both their mouths slowly, their puffs small as their breathing was scarce and tight. "I won't let anything happen to you. But I'll need the necklace. You have to trust me with it."

A nod.

"It's not just us."

Heather's mouth fell.

"It's on Owen too."

Heather's mouth dropped, and she took the almost done cigarette out. "How?!" So it wasn't a disease?

"I don't know. Something's wrong." Kei ran a hand through his hair.

"What, what's wrong?" She just wanted to understand.

"It's probably why you suddenly started getting sicker as an un-crested mage." He sucked in deeply the last of his cigarette before flicking the butt out. "The arising mana from it was too much for you. I had to do something, or you'd just get worse." He blew the last puff out and leaned on the outside railing. "It's completely against your father's wishes."

'My father?' Her mind mulled. It made sense now. Her father didn't like it. Her father and Kei were different. Kei was a mage. Her grandfather. Grandma Rin. Her father wasn't... so she wasn't... because he didn't want that for her.

She got it. She got it. But that... that? That was what created this void of space between them?

"But... It sort of forced my hand in that matter."

She snapped out of it and looked. "What? What did?"

Kei turned, as he watched her toss her cigarette too.

"The Holy Grail."


	6. Chapter 6

6

"Well, I know you've never been here before, but welcome." Kei opened the door to his small cottage.

They'd left immediately.

Rather than sleeping, Heather felt like she was wide-awake. After the information that had been given, after the crest being applied, she was wirey. Nervous. She couldn't help but wonder in her mind, what the hell was the next step?

Kei had explained some more factors on the way to Berkshire, riding in his dark Cadillac. He'd always had Cadillac's.

They slipped up the hill to the main house area, wading and swishing through the tall grass, and piled into his car by the front gate of the main house. He'd opened the passenger side from the inside latch as to not create a single extra noise.

 _"Don't shut it hard 'til we're on the highway, sound travels out here."_

Heather knew what he meant. They'd just hold onto their doors while driving down the rock road, not turn on any headlights.

Act like straight high school kids sneaking out at night.

Together, they'd pushed the large black boat of a vehicle backwards down the drive after Uncle Kei had put it in neutral, to avoid waking her father, and Pops. Mostly her dad though, who didn't know about any of this: what Kei had done (making her a mage), The Grail, which she craved to know more about, and the implantation of the family crest on her upper arm.

Ebisu though now, rather than her dark-haired uncle, was the person that was in-question in her mind.

So much had been hid from her.

Her father may of been honest with his feelings of keeping her safe by veiling her blue eyes from the world of mage-ery, but in order to do that, he had to pile one lie on top of another to do so.

They were many kilometers down the road until they slammed their doors, and the Cadillac sped out onto the highway, out of the clearing of brush that barely marked the entryway to Pop's acreage.

The information delivered in the vehicle did not made her feel in-concrete about everything. Inconclusive.

About her life.

About her career.

But mostly... her safety.

* * *

 _"I questioned everything. That's big difference between your father and I. When I became a mage, my mind became constantly on-the-move; more vigilant. It wasn't until my mid-20's that I came across some information that unlocked a whole new level of understanding for me."_

 _"Hn?" She looked out the window at the countryside passing by, hand ran through her hair, flopping the part the other direction. She sounded so flat and lost in her own head. Truth is, she was._

 _"I found out on my own that my parents were hiding something."_

 _"Hiding what?" There were already hundreds questions running that she was editing in her head, pasting and cutting information, formatting things to say, questions based off things she'd come to know within the past few hours._

 _ _She'd figure it out. She'd find out. It was owed to her. After all these damn years! Not understanding what was going on between Kei and Ebisu, it was madness being graced with even a lick of data to begin with!__

 _It caused her habit of 'over-thinking', that her father made fun of her for, to run wild._

 _He opened the window, rolling it down. Lighting another cigarette. His voice, over time had grown husky from it. "My parents had a family friend, he was never really around much. I always wondered about his connections. I knew general things; he went to high school with my mother, they went to mage college together, they even dated."_

 _'Old flame?' So it had something to do with someone her grandma knew? She noted he never used the word 'our' in reference to Mama Rin and Pops being their parents._

 _Kei and Ebisu really did distinctly hate each other. _

_To the point that Kei wouldn't even refer to their parents as 'their' parents. It was 'my' this, 'my' that. Never 'ours'._

 _Their separation in childhood was still so apparent in their adult lives. Yet again, she felt that undulating sense of distance that enveloped around the two just from something as simple as speech, and the way that Kei formatted his sentences._

 _"Not just that..." He inhaled. "He used to write mom all the time, wherever he went, even if he was gone for awhile, eventually, he would come back around and start writing again; I always assumed once he got somewhere where mail service was established. I still have no idea where she put the letters."_

 _So, it was someone that had ties to grandma, older ones than even Great Aunt Jackie. "Who?"_

 _"Shirou Emiya."_

 _"So, why don't we contact him?" He was probably very elderly like Pops, but it was worth a try._

 _"That's the concept." He blew a puff out, long and slow. "The issue is... he's dead."_

 _'What?!' How the? Her head gawked, carry-on bag on lap, re-stuffed with actual useable items, and not just the extra last few things in her room from Chicago._

 _"I'll show you later." He smoked. "You see, I figured the 'something' out that your grandparents were hiding. I only ever conversed with Emiya once in my life; it was after my high school graduation, your father's too."_

 _Again... the distance. She just watched Kei, his lips quirking in on the corners back and forth processing information inside his head. 'And dead?' How the hell would they talk to a dead person? Tarot cards? Crystal ball? A psychic medium? What? She felt freaked out._

 _"I seen his power that night. He blew a hole in the backyard."_

 _"The crater?" So, it wasn't caused by a bulldozer? Her dad had said Pops wanted a pool built there, but just never got around to finishing it._

 _"Yea, I bet you always thought it was weird how grandpa used to mow it all the time?" Smoke blew out._

 _She crossed her arms and stared straight now. "Dad used to say that he was just tryin' to keep tall grass cut down for construction."_

 _"But the construction never came did it?" He sighed. She swore she seen an eye-roll. "Pops venerated the man."_

 _Heather looked again. Never would she of thought of Pop Bartley as the type of person that would think on another human that way. How she remembered him while he was in his primer-days, he was just too steadfast! He was so funny and humble!_

 _"People surprise you, there's always things you don't know. If there's any advice a senior mage can give you, just remember that."_

 _ _ _The difference in Kei and her father's thinking was much different. Polar opposites she realized. Kei took a very harsh look at everything, scrutinizing details, scanning like a predator, questioning intent with passion. Ebisu, the happiest-go-luckiest person she'd ever met, was simple in decision, but strong with decision. (And now, she'd come to realize quite the liar.)___

 _Heather knew she sat somewhere in the middle._

 _She had the intense ability to over-think before making a decision, but was smart enough not to dwell in that state of mind too long. She could cut it off (after she'd felt she'd thought on it enough), and make a decision, and feel hopeful in herself that that decision was the best one that she could of possibly made._

 _ _In doctoral school they called that, 'The Surgeon's Process'. But she'd never wanted to be a full-blown operator, all she'd made it through were the core surgery courses, learning how to remove minor cysts ad small foreign objects out of the outer layers of skin, properly sew stitches to close wounds, things like that.__

 _"His magic attracted my attention. I wanted to know who he was. He was so powerful, and he wouldn't teach me anything. It became a secret obsession of mine to find him out."_

 _'Rebellious.' Kei must of been a little shit when he was younger. Digging around, nosy._

 _Also, since when had she gotten so vulgar? Heather noticed a heavy change in her language. She wasn't a saint by all means, but God! She found herself thinking and saying things that she hadn't since her younger college years that she'd thought she'd pulled herself out of. _'This is just too much to handle.' That was what was making her lip fly around all over the place.__

 _"It was at Clock Tower in my early 20's, studying as a mage when I finally discovered some information."_

 _"Clock Tower. I've heard of that." It was prestigious. But she didn't know that it was a wizard's college. That musn't be open to the public, that knowledge anyway. She asked quietly: "Did you graduate?"_

 _"Mhm." He blew a cigarette out. "I have a PhD."_

 _Her mouth fell. She had no idea!_

 _Kei gave her a knowing, calm smirk. He knew that Ebisu hadn't said anything. Hiding it all as always. For Clock Tower was a mage school, and he knew he wanted Heather to have as zero connections as possible to the world of magic. No wonder she didn't know. _

_She was an MD, he knew that. 'Are you a doctor? What field are you in?' he knew those questions were probably the top of her list. Her blank, priceless, but speechless stare confirmed with him all the questions that she'd want to ask._

 _"Toxicology. I was a research assistant for a long time."_

* * *

The car ride to his cottage turned life upside down. Everything was so backwards down now.

"So where you'd uh..." She cleared her throat. "Where'd you do your internship?"

"Hn." He stepped into his living room, flicking on an extra lamp by where she was sitting on the couch. It startled her. "Bulgaria." He had been gone for a minute as he had been downstairs rooting around.

'Bulgaria?' An awe-struck 'Why?' crossed her mind.

"There was no way I could chase after Shirou Emiya. But... I found out at Clock Tower that your grandmother wasn't the only one that he wrote." He opened a tackle box onto the coffee table upstairs, and began digging around through something that sounded like someone running their hands through mountains of coins inside a huge pickle jar. He obviously wasn't interested in speaking about Bulgaria right now.

Instantly she was curious.

From among the simple furnishings, the low couch she sat on, very similar and clean-lined like at the guest house, a distinct style of Grandma Rin, she also seen something else that brought her back. Leaning in and over as he allowed her too, not caring at this point as she was a new mage she figured, he didn't obstruct her point of view, tell her to stop. She got an eye-full.

His hands were running through piles of jewels of all colors inside the box!

Like they were junk crayons! All broken and useless, they way he sifted through them!

But none of them were. They were polished, cut pristine.

"Grandma." She blurted.

Kei seemed distracted as he was digging for something, and he was getting a bit messy. She just picked up the ones that fell out of the box onto the table, and plopped them back in for him as he kept digging, holding one up, looking, putting it back down. Her light blue eyes bored holes into the rocks, until a sapphire fell out, and she picked it up, holding it into the light.

"Mama Rin told me once that this one was my birth stone."

"It is." Solid in answer, quick look. More digging. "Ha. I knew I'd put it in here."

Heather looked up still holding the sapphire in her palm, it was ice cold, like it'd been ignored in a cellar for awhile, which was probably true, Kei had come up from the basement.

It was chalk.

Heather looked at him perplexed. Why would someone keep chalk inside a tackle box full of priceless gems? 'Wait.' Why would someone keep jewels inside of a tackle box and not inside of a safe?

Kei was strange.

"It's Summoning Chalk, one of a mage's 100% must-have practical use items."

She reached out to touch it.

"No." He held it back away from her. "This one's mine. Only one mage can touch the chalk, and only one mage can use the chalk until it's used entirely. If it isn't used then it must be either buried or burned."

"Why?" She pluncked the blue gem back into the box before he closed it up.

"The magic is interfered with when more than one mage touches it, makes it unclean." He changed the subject again. "You're Uncle Charles and Owen are coming over, they're in transit right now."

Her mouth upturned. "Really?" She felt a little excited. Uncle Charles!

Quick, he jolted back to what he was originally talking about.

Heather quickly noted that his brain shot around all over the place, tale tell of someone who was incredibly intelligent.

"You see, Emiya ended up being close friends with a professor that taught at Clock Tower. As I heard wind that the professor knew him, then I assumed surely he knew Grandma Rin too, as they both went to Clock Tower."

"They did? What... do they? Did they have degrees also?" She was flabbergasted, more college graduates in her family? Doctors?

"No. Uh... They were kicked out."

Heather's stomach knotted, jaw opened. 'What?' Her grandmother was a college drop out? She... didn't expect that. Not at all. Not for her. But as Kei said, sometimes people are unexpected, and do surprising things. She swallowed her unsettled feeling down.

"The professor kept in contact with Shirou. I sort of..." He cleared his throat. "Look, I wasn't the best when I was younger."

She quirked an eyebrow, surprised she was even still awake at about 6 AM.

"But I'm glad I did what I did now. Because in those letters to my professor, they talked about The Grail. The Holy Grail. I broke into my professor's office to get to them and read what Emiya had sent him. I'm glad I know this information because without it, we wouldn't be where we are now."

"An'what's that?"

"Heather, a war is starting. It's a Holy War, and it's broken."

"A WAR?!" She suddenly slammed up out of her seat. There is no way! "A World War?"

"No no. Not quite." He chuckled at her behavior; she was Irish through and through. Gritty and loud when she wanted to be, her accent rough and reminiscent of the countryside in which she grew up, a fighter.

"But it is to battle for wishes. And that is what will make it bloody."

Wishes? Like a genie in a bottle? The Grail, the winners of this Holy War would be given wishes?

"How many?"

"Two."

"Why two?"

"One for you. One for your servant." Kei scooted the coffee table back in the living area and yanked up the rug to reveal a bare hardwood floor. With a grunt of middle age he got down on his knees, putting a pillow under them so they wouldn't hurt and began drawing a circular pattern with symbols all over it that he knew the new mage across him wouldn't recognize at all. "This portal will bring them back to the material world from their Hellscape. This is how we'll be contacting Emiya."

"What servants?" This wasn't the middle ages!

"The spirits will fight for you." He drew pristinely. It had to be perfect. "One of us three will conjure Emiya. I want it to be me. Owen is too inexperienced, and your journey is just starting. No offense."

She sat baffled.

How in the world was this even possible? Was this necromancy? Technically. 'Yes, it is.' Was there magic that powerful that they could draw up a soul and give it a physical body? "How is this possible?"

"The combination of the Summoning Circle, an artifact link, enough mana, and the right mantra."

"Artifact." The MD mumbled.

"You're necklace is a relic for Emiya. I know it is. You see, mother once said that Shirou had had a necklace exactly the same as the one around your neck, but somehow the original one, your grandma used the gem in it, which busted the jewel. She'd told me that once. So, she said Shirou gave her his back. But that didn't make sense for the longest time. She'd always called him Archer. A nickname. And it wasn't possible for him to give it to her back because she'd commented about how the necklace was 'one of a kind'." He cleared his throat, eyes of black somehow glittery in the lamp light. "As she aged, her words began to contradict her previous ones. She was forgetting what she'd said and not said."

"That doesn't make any sense at all actually." She agreed.

"It does once you come to grasp that Rin Tohsaka and Emiya Shirou were in the last Holy War."

"What?!" She shrieked.

Kei held up a hand over his ear. Her sudden surprised wail was hurtful on the drum. "Keep it down. I do have neighbors you know. It's almost time for them to wake up and go to work at the factory." He smirked. He'd scolded like she was his own child, and a child at that, and not an adult.

She closed her mouth. What else could she do? She didn't want the people next door to hear her and her uncle's musings!

"Rin Tohsaka summoned the Shirou Emiya who was dead. Shirou Emiya summoned a different servant of some kind."

"I... I get it." She gulped. It didn't seem possible, but she got it, she really did. "Shirou Emiya while alive, was becoming the Shirou Emiya that Mama Rin summoned."

"Right."

"So... that Grail can summon past and future dead people as servants?"

"Correct. But not present because they're still alive in 'real time'."

"This is nuts." She squeaked. "So, if I have the only necklace remaining, the one that Shirou, or Archer, had given her back, then how do we know we can summon him with it? Doesn't he need the item on him wherever he's at?"

"Yes. Whatever items they die with, that item's essence remains attached to them, and that's what calls to them along with the mana and words, opens the portal. Essentially, while it's not physically there with them in their Hellscape, it is there." He drew, the sound of the chalk on the hardwood squeaky and a bit unnerving to Heather. "Luckily, I read in the letters to my professor, that that necklace you have there, is half the size of what it used to be. Mom got the stone cut in half to have a necklace remade for Emiya.

"That's our play."

Kei nodded.

"Rin and Shirou set up a contingency plan without knowing they had at all, thinking this was over."

"Right."

"The war is broken though and we need to find out why, and the only person that knows is dead, and we have to conjure him as a servant to one of us, to speak with him?"

"Yes. I'm sure you're next question is how is it broken?"

"Mhm." She nodded, believing everything.

"The Grail, supposedly Mama and Emiya blew it up with their servant's ultimate powers or something at the end. I couldn't quite grasp it from the letters. But, nevertheless, these wars were supposed to be over, nonexistent. So, that in itself is a mystery. Also..." He sat back. Sighed. He didn't want to say this. "Time is of the essence. The Grail spit symbols out to more than 7 candidates. More than 15 even. Charles said he'd gotten word that a number of mage families have them. That's also how it's broken. That's too many mages."

"So, we're left fighting even from the start to conjure these spirits?"

"Right. It's a race on time. There's some high level sages Charles and I are worried about. Some of them are not good people. You can't begin to conjure until the symbols are fully darkened supposedly. They're almost there. They'll be jet black once complete." He held his wrist out.

She did too, yanking up the sleeve in response. The itch of it was completely gone.

"It'll be only a few more hours. Good news is modern times are on our side."

"Hn?" Heather crunched down on the floor by her uncle, getting on her knees, watching like a little girl.

"Don't touch it. Only the mage whose doing the conjuring can touch it. I can draw it with my chalk, but another can use it once it's completed. It will probably be used by me also, but just as a precaution, don't... okay?"

"I won't." She obeyed. "What about modern times?"

"Museums. A lot of relics for heroes are in museums. So, it's not possible to break in and steal them without task forces and SWAT teams coming in to gun you down. That risk alone, even as a magic user, is a lot to think on. Lucky for us, we've got that necklace on our side."

* * *

"Hello and good morning Caseys!" Charles slammed through the door with Owen bearing gifts of coffee and donuts not an hour later. "HEATHER!" He practically galloped over to her like he wasn't the fifty-something that he was, and more a teen.

"Hi Uncle Charles."

"Holy shit woman! You're a woman!"

Heather suddenly smiled and couldn't help it. A laugh came out of her as he grasped her up tight and spun her around in a circle.

A tear came to his eye as he sat her small frame down. "I've missed you girl." His Irish was even more deep than hers. "Nuair a theaghlach, teaghlach i gcónaí."

"Nuair a theaghlach, teaghlach i gcónaí." She repeated. 'Once family, Always family.' Said in perfect Gaelic Irish. She spoke it very rarely, but she knew enough that she could make practical conversation. "Owen." She pulled him in for a hug too.

"Hey Heather." He said, his red hair in a short faux hawk cut. He scratched his stubbly cheek.

The man smiled at her releasing. He was younger than her, but he looked well.

He looked bored to be here, especially with that meme shirt he had on of a cat with laser eyes. Wasn't that popular six years ago? It didn't really matter to her if her upper-twenties cousin still dressed like a 10 year old, she was just happy to see him, but what got her is his so unassuming appearance.

This guy.

He had years worth of mage experience on her, but no one would ever know of it by the way he dressed himself.

She watched him pull off his highlighter green skate shoes and plunk down on Kei's couch in the den like he owned the place.

He was like Kei in that way, that she got immediately.

Hungry, the only girl there swooped up a caramel iced donut and poured some black coffee.

"Where's the necklace? We've got what? A half an hour?" The Gareth mage blabbed, taking a bite of a sweet cakey one.

"I have it." She wiped her hands on a napkin and pulled it out of her shirt. It sat on her chest. She breathed. Breathed.

Her hands went up behind her head, unhooked it.

Kei smiled shallow.

He held his hand open and down in front of her so she could lay it.

She looked up to him with such ice blue orbs that it stirred him. In them, like reflections off crystal glass, all her emotions were there. Present. She was scared. She was overcome. She was getting tired. But something in them spelled out a sense of wonder.

An awe that Keitaro had only seen in the eyes of little girls who wanted to see the princesses at Disneyland.

Who wanted to dance. Who wanted to fly on a magic carpet.

Truly.

Heather Casey was a mage.

The gem hit his hand.

She would be a mage.

He felt it in his heart.


	7. Chapter 7

7

"We have no way of knowing at all whose going to, in this moment conjure... these people? Around the world?" The light blue-eyed woman asked, sitting on the third step of the staircase. Her sentence got cut as she was distracted by her Uncle Charles yelling, his long hair back in a low ponytail at the base of his neck.

"Do it Kei!" Charles wasn't sure what the hesistation was! "Get the mana flowin'! Let's go!"

"No. No tellin'." Owen whispered to her, his red hair the same as his her's, unlike his father's which was more a brownish, sitting close aside her; his left leg against her right.

He'd chosen to have her sit on the left of him. She wanted to stay in the room to watch, and they all agreed that she should, but the more seasoned ones were concerned since she'd just had her circuitry opened, that she should shield herself.

Owen decided to be the physical shield; sitting aside her to have someone to anchor herself on, but what the wizards in the room were more concerned about was her mana.

This experience would be a hell of an experience! For the first 'larger-scale' spells that she'd ever seen cast, this was coming into the world of magic with a bang.

Heather kept gulping, feeling a strange electricity fizzling under her skin, it was making her stomach queezy and her brain fuzz. It was the same feeling after she'd woken inside the guest house, uneven in step, like she'd just waded through the ocean and her equilibrium was upside-down, her body on a fishing boat.

It was how her body had become after waking from watching those blue glowing circuits running across the whole sky in her head, in her recurring dream. The Tohsaka lineage made everything not as black anymore, the magic alighted the trees around her, and even though they were still a deep gray, she was finally able to establish their forms rather than just feeling that rough bark and understanding as she ran and smashed into them blindly, that they were there.

So haphazard she'd run, and slam into their trunks; their thick branches, they would smack her down, full force, as they were solid and she, a mere rabbit in comparison to the oaks.

And the bog she kept running through? She finally got to recognize it as it was: A swamp. The lines in the sky reflected off the water around her ankles, legs coated thick in mud, but it was a foul smelling, decrepit, sometimes knees deep, watery area.

Aside, the night terror becoming alight for her more than she'd ever had, this was throwing her off as well; historical just in itself seeing a human being coming back to life from the dead! In a sense, this was necromancy!

The doctor that she was now had been taught all the truth in medicine that the world had to give. Studied book after book, test after test, held the human brain and heart preserved in her hands, was taught the lifespan and functionality of each part, down to such an exactness that she knew how long a body could go on without a single new pump of blood, the time limit of how long the body could operate after the mind shuts off.

So, out of pure curiosity, and the fact that she was trying her hardest to be as brave as she could be, Heather stayed clutched to Owen, knuckles white, lips dry. They'd mentioned this was something that maybe she'd only see a few more times in her lifetime, over the next month, then that would be it.

She was calling the baloney on this hours earlier, but now, as her other uncle and cousin appeared, as Kei had showed her water manipulation (the Casey magic), and opened a tackle box filled to the top-most edge with Mama Rin's gems?

None of this was fake.

Heather Casey shivered inside her own skin.

Somehow she felt now, she understood the lying Kei and her father did. She got why her father wanted to keep her away from this, and while it was chivalrious in Ebisu's attempt, as he probably just wanted her to have a normal life, she gathered with every fiber that without Keitaro burning the Tohsaka-Casey shield on her arm, the back pain, muscle soreness, inability to walk upright, her so out-of-it and weak that she plummeted to the floor, head and body crashing like a deadweight... those issues would of continued until she was as if she had a serious disease; it would of handicapped her. And because of this, and Kei's insight into this highly unknown otherworld he lived in, he saved her.

Kei saved her.

As her father had tried to 'save' her... he'd failed, without knowing he'd failed. But at the same time, she hadn't told him what was happening to her physically, being stubborn, wanting to call the Scot doctor first. She just didn't want to worry him if it was something she could solve on her own! He had enough worries with Pops aging and being sick, and his personal issue of a bad leg, having to use a cane!

So, what would come of this?

When she has to face her father?

When she has to tell him that his point of saving her was done, and now it was Kei, this once dark entity of a man, that had truly saved her from her own body? That she knew would be the one teaching her, training her.

It was as if she was first entering college again with her Uncle Kei and magic. He'd mentioned studies.

 _Studies_.

She had already done so much of that in the real world, so had Kei himself.

What he'd done by burning that symbol on her arm, left with no pain, it could not do for her what any modern medical science, hospitalization, or drug could do. It cured her struggle in less than a few hours. It was miracle, a damn scary and frightful miracle, but one all in the same. She wondered if somehow she could learn and grow into the magical world and apply what she learned to modern medicine. Was that even possible?

She had so many internal questions to ask herself, because what would steps towards this mean? Into this world?

She'd asked David if she was honest, because sometimes she had to hear it for herself because she'd known her whole life lying and secrets were floating all around her, none of it being voiced by either of the twins; Ebisu and Keitaro kept their mouths clamped.

And David. Poor loving, kind David.

He was wrong about her grandmother's necklace. Not entirely wrong, but half-wrong.

Perhaps her father seen it as a keepsake, and so had she without knowing any better, but now knowing the history, knowing that her grandmother had had the gem shaved in half again to remake a necklace for Emiya?

As soon as the symbols started showing on the hand... how Kei then must of known the necklace was no longer a heirloom, the gravity of his understanding in the chance that it held to get Shirou Emiya up from the grave.

Everything rested on that crimson jewel swinging in Kei's right hand.

"Here take it!" Charles pushed and there was a wind inside the house.

Heather felt a snap of heat, her heart sped.

"Calm. It's okay." Owen hushed. "Dad is giving him a boost. Mana is matter you cannot physically see. But you can feel it right Heath?" He squeezed her hand as he held it.

She nodded, face white.

The conjugation spell was tricky (as the older two mages described), Kei looked weak on the ground by the chalk-drawn symbol. It started to glow red as his eyes were squeezed shut, focusing on the image in his head of Shirou Emiya.

No one wizard had ever perfected it, so difficult that little outlier nuances always occurred. Some were manageable that were physical the elders conveyed, such as the color of the heroic spirit's hair being incorrect, their armor being wrong (as in too modern, as the conjurer would have no idea what the armor of the hero actually looked like, completely unable to envision it, which meant that the servant would personally have to take some time getting used to whatever they appeared in, as it wasn't what they were accustomed to), even things such as height and age sometimes couldn't be controlled.

Heather gasped when she heard 'age'. Surely, The Grail, this intelligent item, would know better than to allow a spirit of a person who is dead, to come back alive to fight in it's war as a tiny boy or girl!

But Keitaro and Charles shook thier heads at her. That wasn't up to The Grail; that was up to them, as magicians, as mages, wizards, sages, warlocks; whatever people over the centuries wanted to call them.

Heather almost dropped the last of her caramel donut on the floor hearing that!

She swallowed on the staircase, she felt her cousin's hand lace tighter with hers as the pulsing of energy in the air was making her sick.

"It's a gamble." He was more firm in his words than her. "But, the hero has to accept as well." He didn't want to tell her that he'd never seen his father share that much mana with Kei before, that this was getting reckless.

"What?"

"Yea." Owen nodded. "If Kei can get it open, the portal will only last a short time, but the spirit can decline." He swallowed now in return. "I'm scared." He admitted to that at least. He wanted her to not feel alone in her fear, but he didn't want to alert her that perhaps the elders didn't quite know what they were doing.

"Because our odds are shit?" Heather seen him nod and look over, panting, she closed her eyes before doing the same. Breathed. "Me too."

He smiled the best he knew how at the back of her head worried for her as that red wavy hair whoosed around her face, his only the bangs. Surges unlike anything they'd ever felt before were coming from that circle. The way the electricity sizzled and crackled under the skin was an experience all on its own, aside from the sight they'd see.

It was Owen's first conjuration experience as well.

They both held each other close; it was almost like no time had passed since the last time they saw each other. Eight years hadn't felt like eight years at all. This trial in thier lives, bonded them in something unique: This war, watching this portal cut the space and time continuum to open a gate to the nether.

They'd looked at the symbols on each other's hands while they picked a place in the cottage to sit for the event, as Kei was getting down on his knees closest to the outer edge of the circle he'd drawn on the floor. He'd been sitting there for awhile, quiet, obviously concentrating, focusing his mind.

He'd explained that he wanted Emiya to be exactly how he remembered him when he was high school, sitting across the table, maybe up to 6 or 7 years past, but no more than that.

Heather Casey gathered that her half-Japanese uncle then, was shooting for an exact time in the spirit's life. A time when the body was in it's prime, adult. He was trying to not let an age limitation ruin chances at getting at The Grail. A younger Shirou meant more 'able', especially since this specific person died at old age, unlike many heroes who died younger due to leading reckless lives.

Undoubtedly, her uncle was taking on the largest burden for a hero conjuring that any mage could. A fully lived life, meant more mana. Charles was outside the circle with his arms spread out, ready to give him even more, if any extra if he needed it, he was panting and wheezing as if he was running a triathalon.

"Kei." He choked. "Do it damn it."

Owen looked at his wrist, as Heather turned it in her hands, eyes swirled in awe and fear, touching at, seeing if his was raised and bumpy, her doctoral roots coming out. It wasn't, it was flat like hers, much like a tattoo. He had a half infinity, an eight pointed star, and a goblet shaped symbol that went down his wrist. The stem of it long and swirled.

Heather had been told by Charles they were Command Seals. That each one was a 'hell or high water' call, where the heroic spirit would listen to it no matter what it was.

You only had three. Then, once you were out, you were out, and not just out as in out-out, you were out of the war as a mage, and unluckily for you, your heroic spirit, if it didn't bond with another wizard, then it lifted away like on swift wind, disappearing after a few days without a mana pump (a mage) to keep it in this present world.

Heather figured they could always make a pact with servant of someone else? Couldn't they do that to, other mage's could though? If they lost one?

 _Hooking to another mage._

That was something that scared her. So, Shirou Emiya could be stolen from them if Kei is stupid and uses all the seals. But, Charles had reititerated that he could be stolen from Kei in other ways. If a stronger mage got ahold of him with the intent of stealing heroic spirits, or if a heroic spirit was strong enough to steal another spirit (he mentioned the Caster class), then it would be over, but he doubted Shirou Emiya would let that happen. He was too intuitive.

That was just another gamble in this huge game of war that they were playing.

Three knight classes were to be summoned: Saber, Lancer and Archer, and four Calvary classes: Rider, Caster, Assassin, and Berserker.

But The Holy Grail was broken, Charles had said himself that more than 15 mages that he knew of, had symbols on them, what did that mean?

After 7 were summoned, the war then, would it begin? Or not?

These spirits would be fighting, and dying; dying all over again. Dying a physical, very human and very real death. Surely, the servant knew that upon acceptance of the deed, but that was another thing that bothered Heather.

As a medical professional, it was her duty and right to try to save people, to help them survive, to live, and soon she had a feeling she was going to be surrounded by nothing but death. These spirits after they died, would go back to the hellscape they're stuck on, to the place where they took their last breath for the first time.

No way did she want to control someone. That alone was too much for her to bare. The thought of telling someone what to do as an adult, commanding and ordering them around like cannon fodder, struck a chord. Her uncles had said they were 'servants', that word set a crunch to her lip, a shiver.

Even if they were dead, they were still people! They'd lived, they'd laughed, they'd danced and sang. They were children once, little boys and little girls!

"Keitaro Casey!" Charles wailed.

"Charles!" Heather suddenly yelled through the wind inside the cottage, trying to stand. Neither were sure how much they'd need to summon him! To open this! She was frightened and aghast, her uncle looked as if he'd fall.

"NO!" Owen lashed her back down.

"Le'GO!" She tried to push Owen back a little, concerned for her uncle's health. He looked weak! "Charles!"

She watched her Uncle Kei his arms out wide too; one hand with Mama Rin's necklace rapidly slamming around. Supposedly, what had to be said was nothing specific, but whatever it was it had to deeply harken on a the hero's specific moral code. Which was why mages who were chosen by The Grail, had to concentrate on what exactly they'd say, study on the hero they wanted to try for.

But 'try' was the main word. It could fail.

"Kei! Charles is goin' to pass out! DO IT NOW! HE CAN'T GIVE YOU ANYMORE!" Owen screamed for Heather, his thoughts aligning with her, worried for his father, but not wanting her to run across the ritual, unsure what that portal might do to the unsuspecting bystander. He was holding her by the waist.

Kei was the most perfect person to call upon Emiya. He'd been set, trying to find him out for years, to discover more of who he was.

No other mage would be able to capture this hero's inner essence than him, he'd written it down, gotten words to a science of what exactly the man would want to hear.

Kei began whispering, as silent as a person could get, nearly falling over himself. "I call to you; send my voice on air. A message in the wind, listen if you care. I know you; hero of many sword, friend of Rin, forever-more. A burden has came, we cannot grasp. Give us your hand, let the unlimited blades, hands clasp. I have the necklace which I know you share, come hither to this world, your advice we need here. Fight for me, in this war, be my shield, protect and seek the truth."

The circle on the floor shot up a wave of red light, much taller and brighter.

"It's... it's..." Owen's mouth dropped.

"You're death be it was uncouth, the noose around your neck. It choked you of your life, but now I give you chance to be reborn. Become the bone. Come and stand. Shirou Emiya, I ask you, as Keitaro Casey, resolve this blight."

Suddenly every single item that was out on a shelf in Kei's cottage got sucked to the floor like a tornado, some flower pots busted, shards of glass slammed into the walls, curtains ripped from their poles, a wooden chair split and swung it's remnants in a circular motion.

And in the center of the eye like a monsoon, out of the hardwood floor, as the items inside the house spun, destroying the furniture, the interior walls, ripping wallpaper off, tearing out celing tiles... a tuft of red hair puffed out of nowhere.

Dead in the center.

A face with eyes closed emerged, and everyone froze.

Charles and Kei as if a ghost.

Heather could not feel breath.

Owen's throat squeaked.

The silhouette spun slow and circular in a corkscrew, rising.

Red.

A coat flared out, the wind so heavy it spun the longer portion of the cape around him.

The hair was not red. It was peppered with some gray.

The jeans were black, covered in thick deep leather straps and buckles, military.

The whole figure was soon there, and the back arched and it floated above the ground, arms back as if possessed.

A deep tone, unlike any other they'd heard, sounded, a whining growl, partial human partial spirit.

"I accept."

In a blink everything in the house slammed into the ground. Things that weren't broken yet, they were broken now, as if some strings had grabbed them and forced them downwards. A china cabinet slammed down, all the ceramics inside spewing across the floor.

The tone was mildly sarcastic. The form crossed it's arms. "Ah. This happened last time." The man's voice was a normal voice now, the airy spirit timbre gone. It turned to the two older men panting on the ground, Kei laying, face gawking up.

"Emiya."

"Keitaro Casey. Much older." He shot air out of his nose, not snide, but more teasing. "You remind me of my father Kiritsugu."

Kei said nothing, just sweated, palms on the floor spread.

Emiya came over to pick him up, hoisting him up by an arm under his shoulders to sit his wheezing form down on the over-turned couch. It wasn't a comfortable spot, but it was somewhere to sit.

"What the hell?" Shirou said. He didn't look angry, just confused.

"The Grail."

"Obviously. This..." He did a hand wave around his body, swishing the coat-cape after he sat the man down. "is once again it's doing." A sigh.

Charles sat up on his knees, groaning in pain. "So, you're him?"

"Who else would I be?" Shirou plopped down to sit on the edge of the overturned couch, but not before giving Charles a hand as well, helping him up to sit on the upside-down sofa by Kei.

Heather and Owen remained silent.

"I'm Charles, relation to Kei." He didn't move much, he seemed as if in pain.

Heather wanted to lunge out and immediately start working on him, like a medic in a war, her instinct was to do so, but the sight before her kept her at bay.

"And the kids?"

"Heather, Tohsaka's granddaughter and my boy, Owen."

Emiya turned in his seat, putting an arm over the back of the couch. "Hi." The tone was unenthused.

Heather almost fainted as those clear, 100% bright hazel human eyes looked her up and down once, then looked the other over.

Kei, slits for eyes watched her.

She backed against the wall, but did not run.

Shaky. She was shaky. But she was still here. He smirked. Yet again, she was a blend of both him and his brother, as much as he despised him, she was the epitome of their combination.

Somehow, Emiya noticed as well. He abruptly stood, his boots cluncking on the floor over to the newest mage. "You are a Tohsaka." He looked the frozen woman up and down. "A few freckles. Got red hair mh? That's not Rin at all, that's Bart."

He smoothed his jacket back to expose a dark, white-lined, thin breastplate underneath that was turtle-necked. "I'm real, not just an image." He pointed to his chest.

Heather shook but held up her wrist, the hazel eyes of the man were incredibly soft. Her fingers extended, and the index was the first to land.

The armor was just a very thick metal-woven fabric.

Instantly she laid another.

Then he laid his neck over, grabbing those two fingers and she jolted at the touch.

"Feel my heart." He put the fingers down on his neck.

She instantly felt it. A strong beat, pulsing a little fast itself.

He put two of his fingers on her neck as well. "See."

"I'm... not that much younger...than... than you." She squeaked out of not knowing what to say to the man.

"Wh... ?" He crooked his eyebrows. He turned, their touches ending. "How old do I appear?" He was speaking to Kei over his shoulder.

"Mirror." Charles pointed now standing, coughing a bit.

Shirou clunked over.

A 'WHAT.' Was heard in the bathroom.

Kei actually chuckled.

"Why?" Emiya came out. "I'm about 37. How'd you manage that?"

"Lots of concentration." He got him a little younger than he wanted, but that was fine as all the experience came with the hero no matter the age.

"Pun on bein' old 'er what kid? Not want me all gray?" Shirou jokingly ran fingers through his mop-top.

Kei Casey was by far not a kid, but he just smirked at the man.

Emiya was just as he remembered him, it brought him a good, warm deja vu. He had the same laid-back, semi-sarcastic personality. He was a kind person, a bit brash around the edges, and the best was that he looked almost similar to how he had that night he'd been shown the Unlimited Blades so long ago in the past now. He mustn't of changed a lot in look from his mid-thirties to forties.

Shirou came over to Kei, and held his hand down and Keitaro took it to stand. "We've got a lot of talking to do."

"I know. Let's head back."

"Back?" Shirou squinted.

"Dad. You want to see him?"

"Ah, old hm?"

"Very."

Charles cut in. "We can take a few vehicles. I rented an SUV."

"I'll go with him." Shirou grappled Kei's shoulder and shook him around some, like a father would do a son. It was odd because Emiya appeared younger than him, even though he was older than the Casey men. "I'm Kei's servant after all. I'm sure all of you are filled in on what's happening already. I want to be filled in too before I make any decisions on a course of action."

"So that's that then?"

"What?" Emiya turned to Charles.

"There's a circle of protection around the whole Casey property there right?"

Kei nodded. "I've re-instated it recently, it's stronger than here." He smirked then looked to Heather. "Do you feel it?"

Somehow she knew what he was talking about. She found her voice. "It's a feeling of protection that washes over you." She cleared her throat by swallowing a few times, eyes not jutting around at all the broken things in the house. "I'd always felt it since I was little." So, that was why she felt comfort at the main home, the guest house and also at Kei's cottage, but not at her family home.

Somehow, even though she grew up there, it felt vacant to her in heart.

It did not have a circle of protection on it because Ebisu, her father, was not a mage.

She'd felt those things that early on.

"Always meant to be a mage then." Shirou commented. "The Casey farm, that'll be our base."

"What?" Heather walked over. Her father. Everyone knew except the newest person in the room.

"What?" Emiya said back, arms crossed.

"Her father." Charles blurted, shaking hair out of his ponytail, looking at his son who was ready to go, silently standing by the door frame.

"Ebisu?" The hero squinted an eyebrow. He got it suddenly, remembering how the kid almost reeled over his death bed seeing the swords floating above his head, then as he came back up onto the porch, he had pretty much molded with one of the pillars, almost it seemed in an effort to disappear after seeing Unlimited Blade Works. "Ah. Still afraid of magic?"

No response from any of them.

That was enough for Shirou to grasp. Yes. The answer was yes.

"He used to do some basics, but not for a long time now." Kei spoke of his erstranged brother.

"Used to?"

"Mhm. He stopped shortly after Heather was born."

"No matter. Let's go." Charles had his hair tied back again. "Kei get your car."

Heather's heart was in her chest.

Her father had done... magic?

There was no avoiding her father now!

She would face it and he would have to know full-well that it was Kei that had saved her.


End file.
